Hope Reawakened
by georgesgurl117
Summary: Nearly seven years have passed since the War was won. In that time, Hermione Granger managed to overcome grief and hardship in order to build a life in which she felt comfortable and relatively content. A snowy night in February, however, will show her that she ought never to have given up hope on having what she thought had been lost to her forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not, to the best of my knowledge, J.K. Rowling, so any of the characters, events, or places you recognize are not mine. Though, wouldn't it be nice?**

**A/N: I'm certain that I will be receiving several complaints/comments that I should be focusing my time on _Bound to Him_ or my other WIPs. However, I hope you all understand that while I am always thinking about all of my stories, I cannot always bring myself to work on them. I have limited time for writing, but multitudes of plot bunnies, so some days I am more interested in working with certain ideas than others. While it slows down the completion of my stories, I feel like it enables a better product over all, so please be patient! **

**This is one of those shiny ideas taking up space in my creativity, which I have been picking away at gradually whenever experiencing temporary writer's block on my other stories. I hope you enjoy it, even though it isn't a coveted update to _Bound to Him_ or _Rumored in Love_ or even _Shepherd's Passage._ This work will include about a dozen chapters and is approximately 90 percent written already, so updates should be more regular. Please leave reviews, as I always love to hear your thoughts!  
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_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-1-**

"Mum, can we go visit Dad?"

Hermione Granger paused while putting away the leftovers that Molly Weasley had sent home with them. Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the small, dark-eyed boy who was resting his chin on the countertop.

"Now?" she asked. "Brendan, it's getting late."

"So?" he returned, tilting his head.

"So," she stated slowly, "it's past your bed time as it is, and they're likely to close any minute."

Brendan's eyes were wide as he shook his head. "They're open til ten, though! I remember the sign. Plus it's my birthday. Can't I stay up on my _birthday_?"

With a loud sigh, the witch closed the icebox door and then tousled his hair. "We were just there a few days ago, you know."

"But it's my _birthday_, and I want to see him _today_," he whined. "Wouldn't he _want_ to see me on my birthday?"

Hermione smirked lightly as she took in his pleading gaze. "Alright, we can go."

"Yes!" He jumped up and down in excitement.

"But," she clarified, holding up her pointer finger. "_I_ want to see _you_ in coat, hat, _and_ mittens this time."

The boy let out a small huff. "Can I skip the scarf?"

"You may skip the scarf," she nodded.

"Okay!" he cried in excitement before scampering out of the kitchen.

With a shake of her head, Hermione gripped the edge of the countertop and took in a steadying breath. Despite the time that had passed and the number of visits they had made over the past two years, she still found herself struggling to keep her emotions under control. And when she could not quite manage the feat, it only broke her heart further afterward when her son would try to comfort her whenever he caught her crying. But if Brendan wanted to see his father, how could she deny him that? It made him happy, and she would do anything to see him smile.

"Come _on_, Mum!" the boy stated brightly as he popped back into the kitchen. "Are you ready yet?"

"Of course," she smiled, turning toward him. She adjusted his winter cap and straightened the collar of his coat before gesturing in the direction of the front door.

"Can we apparate?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her with wide eyes.

Snorting quietly, Hermione nodded. After donning her heaviest travelling cloak, she pulled on her own hat and gloves and then took hold of her son's hand.

A moment later, the pair arrived on the northern edge of Hogsmeade village, and the boy immediately gave an excited squeal.

"Ten fingers, ten toes!" Brendan called, holding up his free mittened hand. "Two eyebrows, one nose!"

"All in one piece, then?" his mother asked in amusement.

"Yep," he nodded. "You didn't splinch me, Mum."

Laughing, the witch squeezed his hand as they walked down the quiet, snowy lane. As they neared their destination, she glanced down at him. "So what was it you wished for when you blew out the candles?"

"Muuum," he groaned. "If I _tell_ you, it won't come true!"

"Fair enough," she smiled. "Was it a good one?"

Her son nodded emphatically at the question. "The best."

"I bet it was," she agreed, pulling open the door to the Wizarding Wars Memorial Museum. "If it comes true, will you tell me then?"

"I s'pose so," the boy mumbled while stepping past her into the museum lobby. Immediately, he yanked off his hat and mittens and shoved them into his pockets.

With a smirk, Hermione reclaimed hold on his hand. Out of habit, she nodded toward the old witch at the front desk who was dozing quietly and then dutifully followed as her son tugged her through the corridors. When they were near the correct stall, she let go of his hand and watched as he scampered up onto the bench in front of the exhibit.

"Hi, Dad!" Brendan said quietly.

The witch smiled at her son and then took in a slow breath as she raised her eyes to the painted face. The familiar weight settled onto her chest as it did every time they came to visit him. The painting was so life-like that she had to fight the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek. She would give anything to feel the warmth that had been lost to her for nearly seven years, but the painful truth was that there would be none of it left in oil and canvas.

The portrait had the piercing gaze and the stern, yet smug upturn of his lips. It could not, however, capture the softness his eyes held whenever she was with him. There was no quiver of his lips while he fought to keep control of his smile as there had been whenever she walked into his classroom or passed him in the corridor. It could never don the carefree expression that he had worn during the summer afternoons they had worked together. It would never show the relief he had displayed whenever he found her in the wilderness, or the unmistakable fear that had flickered in his eyes when she would tell him of their planned movements. And it certainly could not replicate the tranquil bliss that had consumed his features after he had finally surrendered to her requests for more physical intimacy.

Hermione had never truly known the extent to which he loved her, but despite everything that Harry had seen in his memories, she could not deny that the man had cared for her deeply.

Even prior to their affair, he had accepted her assistance in the lab with very few complaints, and most of those had been directed at the Headmaster for assigning her the task without first consulting him. Throughout the summer before her sixth year, they had become quite comfortable in each other's presence, and when the last weeks of August brought her great sorrow as they approached the conclusion of their collaboration, she knew that she had fallen in love with him.

For months she had battled her feelings unsuccessfully, until she realized they could not – and should not – be repressed. She could sense his rising anxiety and pain as the year progressed, which had spurred her to offer him every instance of kindness she could manage. Before she left for the Burrow that Christmas, she had sought him out with the intention of giving him a handmade card, but had instead followed her heart when it suggested that her feelings would be better expressed by gently pressing her lips against his.

She could still remember the uncertain terror that had sent her rushing out of his office and had plagued her throughout the holiday. Upon her return, she had nearly died of mortification when he had asked to speak with her, but the feeling had vanished when he responded to her advances with apologies instead of anger. With her sworn to secrecy, he had confessed to her what would be required of him in the coming year in an attempt to dissuade her affections, but she had found them only strengthened. Time and time again she had assured him that she would not abandon him, and when she and the boys had gone on the run, she had brought Phineas Black's portrait with her so as to re-establish communication with him. When it was possible, he would come to her on the nights she held watch and sit disillusioned at her side.

While he had held her for some length of time each evening, they had gone no farther than exchanging a few tender kisses. She had always assumed there would be plenty of time to explore their feelings further, but while she had felt her strength waning under Bellatrix's wand at Malfoy Manor, she had realized just how foolish that was. During her recovery at Shell Cottage, she became determined to share as much with the wizard as she could. He had dismissed the notion the first time he had checked on her, but had been unable to refuse her for much longer.

If she closed her eyes, the witch could recall every last detail of the night they had first made love on one of the more secluded dunes that could not be seen from the cottage. She could almost hear the crash of the waves against the pebbled shore and the rustle of the long grass around them. She could smell the salt of the ocean and the fragrant perfume of the blooming sea lavender that had been carried upon the cool breeze. She could feel the roughness of his woolen cloak against the bare skin of her back, the tickle of his hair against her face, and the slight sinking of the cold sand beneath the fabric. Never would she forget how he had kissed every remnant of her session with Bellatrix, nor the soft assurances he had whispered in her ear, nor the gentleness with which he entered her, nor the intense pleasure that had invaded every cell of her body as they moved together in the moonlight.

Their time with each other that night had been limited as she had needed to return to the cottage and he to Hogwarts before anyone noticed their absence, but it had still allowed them a momentary escape from the horrors surrounding them. For a short while, they were the only two occupants of a private world afflicted not with conflict and death, but instead with desire and peace. There had only been one more frantic and frenzied coupling amidst the moonlit dunes the following week, but they had found within each other a renewed strength that had carried them through the remaining days of darkness.

"Mum, why doesn't he like me?"

Hermione startled out of her reverie to see her son staring back at her. "What do you mean?"

"He never talks to me," the boy shrugged before looking up at the portrait. "Professor Dummydoor always says hello to me and asks me lots of questions, but Daddy never does. And Teddy says _his_ mum and dad _always_ talk to him when he visits."

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, touching his head. "He has a different sort of picture, that's why. Your father's portrait is like a Muggle painting."

Brendan narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know, darling," the woman murmured honestly. Though a few museum administrators had claimed to have attempted enchanting it in the usual manner, there were rumors that they had purposely left him frozen for they were afraid of what might tumble out of his mouth. When she had questioned Harry on the matter, he had simply shrugged and asked if anyone could really blame them. Patrons of the museum came to pay their respects and to teach their children; they did not come to be insulted. While it pained her that she could not speak to him again, she could not deny for very long at all that Harry had a point.

"Are you _sure_ that's why?"

Hermione nodded and kissed the top of his head. "Yes, baby. If he could, he would talk to you."

"Are you really sure?"

"Yes." A smirk toyed at her lips. "Unless he absolutely had to, your father was never one to hold his tongue."

Her son frowned slightly as he considered the statement. "Why would he do that? That's just strange, Mum."

"It's an expression, dear."

"Not a very good one."

The tone of his voice was so similar to his father's sneer that it made her laugh in surprise. Wiping her face, she smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "I suppose it isn't."

As she returned her gaze to the portrait, Brendan casually hopped down to the floor and peered out from the stall. "Hey, Mum – what's wrong with that man?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow, but did not pull her eyes away from her former lover's likeness. "What man?"

"There's a man with a hooked stick," the boy explained, glancing up at her, "and he walks funny."

"That would be a _cane_; not a stick," she corrected with a small smile. "And it isn't polite to stare."

"But it's my birthday," he protested.

She briefly flicked her gaze to him in warning. "Brendan."

"Fine," he sighed, dropping his gaze to his feet. A moment later, however, he returned to his earlier observation of the newcomer. "He's stopped at your stall, Mum."

Hermione snickered softly and leaned her head against a pillar. "I imagine quite a lot of people stop there."

"Like us?" the boy queried hopefully.

"If you would like."

"Do you think he'll still be there when we are?"

The woman shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Good," he stated. "Then I can ask him why he walks funny."

"_Absolutely_ not."

"Mum!" Brendan hissed a moment later. "He's _touching_ you!"

"What?" she snapped, automatically covering his eyes with her hand as she reared her head back in concern. The boy gave a grunt of frustration as he pulled her hand away from his face, but Hermione did not appear to notice for she had frozen in place.

Though he wore a bulky, dark travelling cloak with a hood, there was something about the man's form that was incredibly familiar. And when he appeared to gently trace his gloved fingers over the bronze face of her sculpted likeness, her lips parted in shock.

Glancing up at his mother, Brendan noticed how focused her eyes were. "Mum, you said it isn't polite to stare."

The witch swallowed slowly as she continued to study the dark shape at the other end of the corridor. Her heart began pounding wildly as she watched the wizard lower his hood to reveal dark hair. Biting down on her bottom lip, she silently willed him to turn around so that she could see his face.

Almost as though he had heard her plea, the tall man glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, my god," she whispered, feeling slightly as though the room were beginning to spin when he slowly turned to face her. Unconsciously, she crept forward and, as he similarly moved toward her, she could see the look of realization dawn upon his face.

His gait was different as noticeably favored his left leg, his hair was shorter than she ever remembered it being, and he sported a beard... but it was _him_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this story, as different as it is from my others. This semester is far nastier than I had originally envisioned, so I apologize for the lack of updates on my current WIPs.**

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_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-2-**

Without making a sound, Hermione increased her pace until she was nearly running and, upon reaching him, she immediately threw her arms about his neck.

"Hermione," he whispered gruffly, pulling her snugly against his frame. "My gods."

Minutes passed as they silently clung to each other. Eventually, the witch pulled back just long enough to peer up at his face and then quickly reattached herself to his neck. "Severus! Is it really you?"

"Yes," he gasped as he pressed his nose against the side of her head.

"This isn't a dream?"

"If it is, it must be mine," he replied almost breathlessly, "and I wish never to wake from it."

The witch let out a gasping sigh and dug her fingers deeper into the soft fabric of his cloak. "Gods, Severus... I can't believe you're alive! Everyone thought you were dead. _I_ thought you were dead!"

"I thought I was, too, for a while," he murmured, tightening his grip on her. "Merlin, Hermione… I didn't know if you survived. No one ever told me anything except that Potter had succeeded. I never knew if you…"

"I did," she chuckled oddly.

"Gods, I've missed you so much," he gasped, burying his face into the fluffy curls of her hair. "I can't believe I found you."

As tears streamed down her cheeks, she took one step back and stared up into his own moist eyes. "Severus, I thought I watched you die."

"I… I'm so sorry," he replied quietly, cupping her face with his hand.

Her lower lip trembling, Hermione wiped at her eyes and once again squeezed herself against him.

While watching from a distance for several more minutes, Brendan studied the odd man who was holding his mother and making her cry. After a moment, he looked at the portrait of his father and then back down the corridor. Hesitantly, he came up behind his mother and tugged on her cloak.

"Mum," he whispered. "He kinda looks like…"

"I know, baby," she smiled, finally withdrawing her arms from the wizard and touching her son's head. "He does."

"Mum?" Severus repeated quietly, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "You are married?"

Her heart leaped into her throat at the sad expression that had suddenly appeared in his eyes, and she shook her head. "No. I'm not married."

Visibly confused, the man flicked his eyes down to the small boy and then back at her. "Then who…"

With a proud smile, Hermione drew her son in front of her body and cleared her throat. "Brendan, _this_ is Severus Snape. Severus... this beautiful, little boy is Brendan Severus Granger."

His dark eyes suddenly snapped to hers.

"He's just turned six," she added in confirmation of his silent question.

His lips parted as he again glanced between her and the child. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak. "You were…"

Hermione nodded her head when he trailed off into silence. "I was, yes."

"I didn't know," he murmured dumbly.

"Neither did I," she smirked. "Not until three weeks or so after the battle at Hogwarts."

Brendan quirked his head as he looked up at his mother. "Is it _really_ him?"

"Yes," the witch laughed while running her fingers through his hair. "It's really him."

A bright smile broke out on the boy's face as he turned his gaze to the tall wizard. His chest puffed out slightly as he boasted, "It's my birthday today."

"It… is?" Snape asked, clearly overwhelmed.

"Mmm-hmm," Brendan nodded. "Mum let me stay up so I could come see you."

"See me?"

"You look different."

"Different?"

"Did you _really_ do all those things they said?"

"What—"

"Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry said –"

Hermione covered the boy's mouth with her hand and leaned down to whisper, "Slow down a bit, yeah?"

"Oops," he mumbled when she lowered her hand.

The witch cast an apologetic look toward Snape. "He gets rather talkative when he's excited."

"Must take after his mother, then," he murmured.

A blush graced her cheeks as she tapped her fidgeting son on the shoulder. "Perhaps you could show him what it is you mean."

"Oh, yeah!" the boy exclaimed. Without warning, he tore out of her grasp and snagged his father's hand in an attempt to pull him down the hallway.

"Brendan!" Hermione gasped in censure.

"It's alright," Severus stated, touching her arm briefly as he began moving in the direction that his son was tugging.

Taking in a deep breath, the woman followed several steps behind the pair. They were moving slower then she knew Brendan would have wanted, but the boy was being exceptionally patient as he walked with the limping man. As tears slipped out of her eyes, the witch rubbed at her face and then crossed her arms against her chest. A voice in the back of her head suggested pinching herself, but she was even too afraid to close her eyes for too long lest she find it all an elaborate dream.

After spending almost seven years in mourning, it turned out that Severus Snape – the hero who helped save the Wizarding World, the man she loved, and the father of her son – was alive.

So many questions coursed through her mind. _How was it possible? How did he survive? Where had he been? Why had he not tried to contact her? Who had known he was alive? Why come back now? Why come here? _But despite her desire to know everything, she was content enough at the present moment just to know that he was there. That he was living and breathing, in her direct line of sight, holding her child's – _their_ child's – hand.

"See?" Brendan stated, gesturing to the display that had been designed solely to celebrate the heroism of the Order's most valuable spy.

Hermione watched as the man's expression fell into one of utter disbelief. His dark eyes swept over all of the information and images presented, tightening briefly at the sight of the Death Eater mask and robes that were displayed in the corner.

"The bravest man I ever knew?" he stated, reading the embossed quote on the wall below his portrait.

"Harry said that," she explained quietly, resting her hand upon his arm. "At your funeral service."

"My funeral?"

Sniffling, she nodded. "I told you that we all thought you were dead."

"With no body?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as she dipped her head. After glancing down at her son who was obviously listening, she cast a quick _Muffliato_ before speaking. "The Aurors started incinerating the corpses of Death Eaters immediately after the battle. They didn't care who they were or even bother to report the number of bodies that they had disposed of. I tried to make it back to you as soon as I could, but by the time I could escape the infirmary, the shack was completely engulfed in flames. I tried to… to put out the fire, but I was so… so exhausted and such a mess that I couldn't… and I just… I just thought you were gone. You were gone, and I had…nothing to bury. I had nothing left of you… not until Brendan."

Severus blew out an uncomfortable breath as he touched the side of her face. "Hermione, I'm so –"

"It's okay," she mumbled, waving him off, but failing to stop the deluge of tears that had been threatening to fall. Covering her mouth with her hand, she collapsed onto the bench and bent forward as she sobbed.

"Hermione," he gasped, sinking down beside her and pulling her into his chest. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Where have you been?" she hiccoughed, clutching onto his cloak. "I've missed you so much… so much."

"Mummy?"

At the panicked sound of her son's voice, Hermione pulled away from Snape and tried to wipe her eyes with the edge of her cloak. Gaining control of her breathing, she cancelled the silencing charm and attempted to smile. "I'm alright, darling. I promise."

Appearing as though he did not quite believe her, Brendan climbed onto her lap and wrapped his arms about her neck. "It's okay, Mummy."

"I know, sweetheart," she whispered. After placing a kiss to his forehead, the witch embraced him tightly and rested her cheek atop his hair. For several long seconds, she held Snape's sad gaze, and when he attempted to speak she shook her head. Gesturing to her son, she mouthed, "Not right now."

Severus gave a nod of understanding and let his eyes drift back to the stall for a number of minutes.

"Mummy, do you wanna go home now?"

"Just give me a moment," she replied.

"Can Daddy come home with us?"

The man swallowed hesitantly at the question and flicked his gaze to her. When she raised her eyebrows in inquiry, he slowly nodded.

"Of course he can, Bren," Hermione responded. After hearing his muffled word of excitement, she briefly pressed her lips to the top of his head and then moved one of her hands to Snape's thigh. "Did you want to look at anything else?"

Severus shook his head as he placed one hand atop hers. "I only came here to find you."

Her mouth parted at the admission, and she turned her hand over so that she could wrap her fingers around his.

"Have you had a moment yet?"

The boy's statement drew quiet snorts from both of his parents. With a sigh, his mother patted his back. "Yes, love. We can go. Now, are you going to walk, or do I have to carry you?"

At his muffled response, the witch rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand from Snape's in order to better hold onto her son while she stood. "He's usually in bed long before now."

"Not tired," Brendan argued.

"Well, you can tell your pillow that when we get home."

"Uh-uh," he protested, tightening his grip on her neck. "It's my birthday."

"Yes, well, birthday boys have to sleep, too."

"But what about Daddy?" he murmured. "He hasn't had any cake."

Hermione flipped her gaze back to the tall wizard, who was silently watching them with an odd expression on his face. Chewing on her lip, she took in a deep breath. "After he has some cake, will you go to bed?"

"Uh-huh," the boy nodded against her shoulder.

"Sorry," she smirked, catching the man's eyes. "Looks like you're going to have to suffer through a piece."

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'll manage."

"Good," she smiled. "Erm, did you want me to give you the coordinates or Floo address? I know you don't like being apparated by –"

"Side-Along is fine," Severus replied, before hesitating, "Unless you would prefer that I Floo. I don't wish to impose."

"No, no. It's fine." She cleared her throat and adjusted the child to free up one of her arms. "I'm quite good at it, and it would be less hassle with the wards. I just knew that you preferred transporting yourself."

The wizard swallowed slowly and shook his head. "I do not mind."

"Were you ready –"

"Severus?"

Hermione froze at the soft interruption and immediately locked eyes with the dark-haired man. She could see every line in his face harden until it had essentially reverted into the expressionless mask he had worn during the War. Her stomach twisted in response to the change, and she unconsciously tightened her hold on her son.

"Mum," Brendan whispered. "Professor Dummydoor's calling."

"I know, dear," she murmured, before grabbing hold of her former lover's arm. "Severus, you don't need to –"

"I do," he muttered. "Where is he?"

The witch grimaced before gesturing to the left. "Just around the corner."

Giving a curt nod, Snape headed off in that direction. As Hermione watched him, she involuntarily thought of how graceful and powerful his exits had always been with his robes and the ends of his hair billowing in the light breeze he had created with the swiftness of his stride. To compare that to the slow, uneven gait he now demonstrated made her eyes sting with sorrow. Gone was the confident, proud, and arrogant wizard she had known as a student, and in his place was someone much more subdued and hesitant.

"What's wrong, Mummy?"

"Nothing," she lied with a small sniffle. Reclaiming her seat on the bench, she cleared her throat. "Daddy's just going to have a conversation with Professor Dumbledore, and then we'll be on our way. Why don't you close your eyes while we wait?"

"Okay," he sighed, pressing his forehead against her neck, "but you wake me up before 'parating."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! They keep me smiling.  
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_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-3-**

Hermione sank back against her chair and slowly nursed a cup of tea as she watched her son chatter on about his birthday gifts. She could see that Severus was incredibly uncertain of how to interact with Brendan, but at least he appeared to be trying to figure it out. He could never have been considered 'kid-friendly' by anyone, and since their short-lived, wartime affair had solely been focused on the present, it was not as though they had ever thought to have the 'children' discussion. Even if he _had _asked her all of those years before if she had wanted to be a mother, she probably would have been hard-pressed to give a decisive answer.

But Fate had stepped in as it so often does and made the decision for her. Initially, she had panicked upon discovering she was pregnant, as she imagined any unwed, teenaged girl would have done. It was during the memorial service honoring the Order spy, which had been held in the newly restored Hogwarts castle two months following the Great Battle, however, that she realized she had been given a special part of Severus that would eventually develop into the sweetest and smartest little boy she had ever met.

And now that little boy was happily conversing with the father he had really never known. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and set down her teacup. It was all so surreal that Severus was alive and in her kitchen that she could not figure out how to react. On one hand, she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go, but it also concerned her that she had no idea where he had been or what he had been doing for the past seven years. He had not said anything at all regarding his earlier conversation with Dumbledore's portrait, and afterward he seemed almost hesitant about accompanying them home. Because of this, she was afraid to let her emotions lead her in case he was set to leave again. For her son's sake, if not her own, she had to hold it together.

The chiming of the clock in the hallway caught her attention, and the witch blew out a slow breath. Clearing her throat, she touched the boy's hand. "Brendan, sweetheart, it's time for bed."

Though the child had been yawning with noticeably drooping eyelids for several minutes, he still groaned. "Mum, it's –"

"As it so happens, your birthday officially ended thirty seconds ago," she interrupted, leaning forward. "And just what do you think Granma Molly will say if she finds out I've let you stay up _four_ hours past your bedtime, hmm?"

Brendan giggled as he slipped down from his chair. "Would she say your middle name?"

"If not worse," his mother nodded.

His eyes widened as far as they could in his sleepy state. "What's worse than _that_?"

Hermione snorted under her breath as she patted his bottom. "You don't want to know. Now, upstairs with you. Brush your teeth, and be in pajamas before I tuck you in."

"Ohhh-kay," he yawned, wiping his eyes. He was nearly to the kitchen door when he suddenly turned around and rushed back to the table. Throwing his arms about his unsuspecting father, he squeezed as tightly as he could. "Night, Daddy."

"Good night," Severus responded after a moment's pause.

The witch could not help the smile that spread across her face at the sight. Once the boy had scurried out of the room, she let out a soft sigh and wordlessly sent the used dishes into the sink.

"Did you… need to go to bed as well?" Snape asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I don't generally get much sleep on his birthday."

"I see," he mumbled.

"What about you?" Hermione questioned anxiously. "Did you need to get home, or… tell anyone where you are?"

"No."

The woman nodded slowly and then glanced up at the ceiling. "I need to put him to bed, but afterward… maybe we could talk?"

"I would like that."

"Okay," she stated, pushing up from her chair. "I'll, erm, be back in a moment."

With a nervous smile, Hermione quickly stepped out of the room and made her way to the staircase. Once upstairs, she paused for a few minutes before finally entering Brendan's room. A soft laugh escaped her upon seeing that the boy was already curled up with his eyes closed. After pulling the blankets up to his neck, she perched on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over the back of his head.

Brendan slowly blinked his eyes open and smiled up at her.

"I thought you were asleep," she smirked.

The boy shook his head. "I have to tell you something."

"Oh, really?" she asked, leaning down so that her face was close to his. "Is it a secret?"

He nodded and then propped up his head to whisper in her ear. "It came true."

Hermione's eyes widened as she turned her head to look at him. "Your birthday wish?"

"I wished that Daddy would talk to me."

"Oh, baby," she gasped, stroking the side of his face. "That was a really good wish, wasn't it?"

Yawning widely, he snuggled deeper under his blankets. "The best."

Blinking back tears, the witch placed a kiss to his temple. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, too, Mum."

"Good night, then," she stated, straightening the edge of the comforter. After giving him another quick kiss, she stood up and moved toward the door.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, love?" the witch asked, turning around.

"I forgot to tell Daddy I love him."

Hermione drew in a quick breath of air as she tightened her grip on the doorknob. "I'll tell him for you."

"'Kay," he mumbled while closing his eyes.

His mother stood in the room until she was sure he had fallen asleep and then pulled the door shut behind her. Closing her eyes for a quick moment, she gathered every ounce of strength she could muster and descended the staircase. She was planning to return to the kitchen, but happened to catch sight of the wizard standing in front of the sitting room fireplace. A brief stab of panic hit her as she thought he might have been attempting to leave, but quickly she realized he was merely examining the framed photographs that sat atop the mantle.

There was the hint of a smile on his face as he picked up a small, wooden frame that portrayed Hermione playing in the snow with a heavily bundled up toddler.

"Could he even see?"

The woman snorted under her breath, both at the comment and at her naïve assumption that she could observe him undetected, and reached for the afghan which had fallen onto the floor in front of the sofa. She began folding it before answering him. "_Yes_. Mock me all you want, but when Harry, Ron, and George were dropping him and Teddy from their brooms into snowbanks, I thought it prudent for him to be well-padded."

Severus tightened his jaw at the thought of his son being handled in such a manner and then sighed as he replaced the photograph upon the mantel. "I don't see any men with you."

"You mean besides Harry and Ron?"

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he responded, "I stand by my previous observation."

Hermione laughed softly and scratched her forehead. "No, there haven't been any men. It's just been Brendan and me."

Clearing his throat, he turned to face her.

She held up her hand when he was about to say something and then folded her arms against her stomach. "Before we discuss anything else, Severus, I need to know that you are here to stay. If it were just me, maybe I could take whatever it was that I could get from you, but I will not let that happen to him. I will not allow him to suffer that pain, so I need to know that you aren't going to suddenly leave again."

"Leave again?" he repeated in confusion. With a shake of his head, he moved toward her. "Hermione, I _never_ wanted to leave you. You're the only one I've thought about for the past seven years. The need to know what happened to you was the only thing that kept me going."

"Through _what_?" the witch snapped. "_Where_ have you _been_?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair as he donned an uncomfortable expression. "I was serving my sentence for the murder of Albus Dumbledore."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews!  
**

* * *

_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-4-**

"What?" she hissed. "You were in Azkaban?"

He shook his head. "I honestly don't know where I was. There was a small window in my… cell, but it certainly didn't look out on the North Sea."

"But there _wasn't_ any trial!" Hermione protested, grabbing hold of the chair in front of her. "No indication from _anyone_ that you were even _alive_! The entire Wizarding World mourned the death of a hero, and you're telling me that the Ministry had you locked away and didn't say a damn thing?"

"I suppose I am."

"My gods," she gasped while covering her cheeks with her hands. "How could they _do_ that? And you didn't _murder_ him, for Merlin's sake!"

"I cast the Killing Curse," he replied.

"On _his_ orders!"

"Which is why I am standing here and not still sitting in that room."

"But you _shouldn't_ have been there in the _first_ place," she argued.

Severus let out a sigh as he leaned his weight onto his cane. "Casting the Killing Curse carries a mandatory sentence."

"They lifted that mandate during the War," Hermione stated crossly. "Otherwise, half of the Order would be in prison right now. _Arthur Weasley_ would be in prison right now. _As_ would Kingsley."

He merely shrugged. "If you were to ask the Ministry, I'm quite certain they'll define the War as having started _after_ I killed him."

"But Kingsley's the Minister," the witch grumbled. "_He_ should have…"

She trailed off when he snorted sadly and shook his head. Rubbing her forehead, she let out a deep breath and grimaced upon noticing his stance. "Merlin, Severus, I'm sorry. You just came back from the dead as far as I'm concerned, and here I am arguing with you over something that wasn't even remotely your fault."

The wizard said nothing as she slowly approached him, but immediately held her tightly when she wrapped her arms around him. After a minute, he rested his face in her soft curls and sucked in a deep breath. "Hermione, I would never have willingly left you. Especially not if I had even considered for one moment that you could be carrying my child."

"Really?" she whispered.

"Gods, yes," Snape replied. "I love you, Hermione. I thought I was never going to get the chance to tell you."

The witch smiled brightly as she squeezed his midsection. "I so wanted to believe that you did."

"Yet you didn't?" he asked in surprise.

Hermione took in a slow breath and pulled back from him. "I know about Lily."

He closed his eyes briefly and ducked his head. "I meant to tell you everything. I just… I knew that if you knew the truth about why I was protecting Potter, that it would be too much to ask you not to tell him anything. I didn't want you dealing with any more stress than you had to, and if Potter discovered the truth before all of the Horcruxes had been found, it was too great a risk –"

"I know, Severus," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I _know_. I'm not upset that you didn't tell me. I just… I loved you so much, and it hurt a bit to know that I wasn't the one you were thinking about at… at the end."

There was a clattering as the wizard dropped his cane to the floor and used both hands to cup her face. "Hermione, there wasn't one moment since you first kissed me that I haven't thought about you."

"But it was _Harry_ you wanted to see," the woman exclaimed. "You wanted him to look at you, and you talked about _her_ eyes."

"Merlin," Snape whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry it appeared that way."

"How should it have appeared?"

"I was dying, Hermione, and there were so many regrets," he stated softly. "That I would never wake up with you in my arms… that I could never kiss you again… that I would never be able to see you happy… that you would never know how much I loved you. I knew that I had to tell Potter everything he needed to know, and while he was there, I kept thinking about all the times you told me I should be kinder to him or that you wished that the two of us would eventually become friends. I thought I would have had a bit more time to say good-bye to you, so I wanted him to know that I had never hated him and that his mother had been my best friend. I just... I ran out of time, and I'm so very sorry that I wasn't able to fight it longer."

There were thick tears slipping down her cheeks as she pulled his head down and desperately sought his mouth with her own. Moving his hands from her face to her waist, he drew her frame more tightly against his as he deepened the kiss. When she shifted her knee against the outside of his leg, however, he groaned in pain.

Hermione immediately pulled away in concern. "Oh, Merlin… I've hurt you."

"It's… it's fine," the man claimed as he reached down to squeeze the flesh just above his knee.

"Severus, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Don't." He shook his head as he straightened back to his full height. "It's not something I've never done to myself before."

The witch sucked in a quick breath before grabbing hold of his hand and gently tugging him in the direction of the sofa. "Come sit down. Is there anything I can –"

"No, it's alright," Severus muttered, sinking onto the cushion. "The pain's already diminished."

She nodded hesitantly as she claimed a seat beside him and then gingerly touched his left knee. When he did not flinch at the contact, she exhaled slowly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Side effect of the venom," he explained. "I suppose I should be grateful for the pain since it means it must be improving. Until two years ago, I had no sensation in that leg at all."

"Have you seen a Healer?" Hermione questioned.

The wizard gave a shrug. "As far as I know… no."

"As far as you know?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

He took in an uncomfortable breath and rubbed his forehead. "I wasn't quite conscious for the first six months or so of my incarceration. There were brief flashes, but nothing much. I couldn't see or speak, but I remember hearing the three of you leave, and then at some point there was a woman's voice. I thought for a moment it might have been you, but it didn't seem right."

"I'm so sorry," the woman whispered, hanging her head. "I didn't… I didn't know. I should have –"

"Hermione," Snape interrupted while lifting her chin. "You didn't do anything wrong. You did the only thing I wanted you to do – you kept yourself alive. You kept…you kept our son alive. I would not have wanted you to further jeopardize your safety for me. If you had… if you had died, I would have had nothing to live for."

Tears again rolled down her cheeks as she leaned into him and buried her face against his chest. As he squeezed her shoulder, she snuggled deeper into his side. "Who was it?"

"Narcissa Malfoy," he replied. "I assume she felt she owed me for protecting Draco. I don't know how long I was under her care before the Aurors came. I don't remember any of that. I only know what Shacklebolt told me at the time."

"So Kingsley visited you?"

"Oh, yes. The _esteemed_ Minister graced me with his presence," the wizard sneered. "It was one of the first few days I was fully aware. Before he showed up, I didn't know where the fuck I was. I couldn't speak or do anything more than move my head, and the only living thing I had seen was the mute house elf who popped in to shove potions down my throat and to clean me and the soiled linens. I woke up one morning – Christmas Eve, I guess it was – to see Shacklebolt sitting beside me. He explained that he was fully aware of the nature of my service, that he was exceptionally grateful for everything I had done, and that he regretted the necessity of my imprisonment. Because of that, he assured me that he would strive for the minimum time served and that he had spared me the humiliation of Azkaban. He told me that Potter had dispatched of the – of Voldemort, and that the Aurors who were in charge of rounding up the escaped Death Eaters had been surprised to find me stashed away at one of the Malfoy cottages."

Hermione sniffled quietly as she slipped her fingers in between his.

"I was relieved to hear that Potter survived, of course, but I kept waiting for him to mention you." Severus sighed and lifted their joined hands to his mouth, briefly pressing his lips against her knuckles. "He never did, though, and I was so angry with myself for being unable to ask him. It took nearly a year before I could manage anything intelligible, but I never had the chance again."

"He never came back?" she gasped.

The wizard shook his head. "He sent cards on Christmas with the generic yuletide greetings - and on the memorial anniversaries - but I didn't _see_ him again until two days ago when he came to release me."

"Didn't _anyone_ visit you?"

"Besides the elf who didn't speak?" he snorted sadly. "No. I didn't have any means of contacting anyone, either. The only thing there was to do besides contemplate the meaning of life was to read the very limited supply of Muggle literature provided. If I never hear of Shakespeare or Dickens again, it will be entirely too soon."

The woman took in a slow breath. "If only I had known, or if Harry had… I would have made Kingsley take me there."

The corners of his mouth turned upward as he ran his hand over her shoulder. "I would have liked to see him try to persuade you otherwise."

She gave a soft giggle and then peered up at him. "Why didn't you ask him about me when you were released? He knows where I live. He bloody well offered me a job last week."

The man swallowed uncomfortably as he looked toward the wall. "I considered it, but then I thought… that perhaps if you were alive, you would not appreciate having our prior association brought to light."

"Severus!" the witch cried, pushing into an upright position. "How could you think such a thing?"

He shrugged and placed his hands in his lap. "I'm the Death Eater who murdered the bearer of the Light. I spent nearly seven years locked in a room with nothing better to do than hope that your life had become everything you had wanted it to be. I thought you could have married, started a family, or achieved some prominent position. I had no wish to bring you scandal by showing too much interest in you."

"No," she whispered as she touched his face and forced him to look at her.

"I tried to send you a short note after I was released, just to see if you would respond," Snape murmured. "But when it came back undelivered, I started to fear that you… hadn't… that you were gone. I sat in the Leaky Cauldron for hours on end, hoping to hear some mention of your name, and nicked abandoned copies of the _Prophet_, but there was no trace of you. When I saw the advertisement for the museum, I thought I could at least find out whether or not you had lived. I never expected to find you there… and I never expected to find that I had fathered a child."

"I'm sorry about the letter," Hermione replied, stroking her thumb over the rough stubble on his jaw. "I've… I'm still a bit paranoid, I guess… especially with Brendan. The wards are strong enough that the house is basically Unplottable. The only post that gets through has to specify Roseling Cottage in the address."

He nodded. "Probably wise."

The witch grabbed hold of his hand again. "Severus, I would not have minded in the least to have people know about us. Anyone who matters to me already knows."

His dark eyes sought hers. "They do?"

She gave a quick nod and squeezed his hand. "I was an absolute wreck at your funeral. Given I was already ten weeks pregnant, I knew I couldn't do it alone. Obviously they would have asked about the identity of the father, and I would never have lied about you. Harry had told everyone what you had done for us, and I was proud to carry your child. Absolutely terrified, but proud."

"I'm sure they were all thrilled to find out."

Hermione smirked while ducking her head. "Well, of course I had to do some explaining. They weren't thrilled about it, no, but no one ever abandoned me. And they all love Brendan so much. He has so many people who care about him, but he's always missed having you in his life. He's just as proud of you as I am, and he tells anyone willing to listen to him about how heroic his father was."

Turning his head away, the wizard blinked rapidly to dispel the tears attempting to form in his eyes.

"Severus… very few people think of you as anything less than a hero, and most of those are serving sentences in Azkaban." She sighed and then reached out to stroke his face once more. "You saw the stall in the Hall of Heroes. Harry and Minerva made certain that your portrait hangs in the Headmaster's Office – though they happened to think you were being obstinate and pretending to sleep – and I have yet to visit your grave marker to find it unadorned with flowers and notes of gratitude. You, sir, even have your very own Chocolate Frog card."

A small laugh escaped her as he suddenly looked to her with the same expression of disbelief that frequented her son's face.

"Brendan has at least a half-dozen of you, I'm sure," the woman explained. "In fact, whenever his friends find you in their frogs, he immediately attempts to trade them. I came across his stash the other day while I was tidying up his room. Do you know how disconcerting it is to have six of you staring back at you?"

Severus snorted softly and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. "I find it disconcerting just to see one copy of myself."

His witch smiled as she pushed forward and kissed the bristly underside of his jaw. "I don't."

"I've had seven years to reflect on that particular fact, and still have yet to understand it."

"Perhaps you should just accept it and move on?" she suggested.

Smirking, he glanced out of the corner of his eye. "I see you're still the Brightest Witch of the Age."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and sighed. "You know I hate that title."

"If I'm to face the onslaught of 'The Bravest Man' tripe, I refuse to be the only one with a ridiculous title."

"Well, you and Harry could keep company." At his dark look, she laughed.

"He's the twerp who gave it to me," Snape grumbled.

The witch exhaled loudly and propped up her head as she leaned against the backrest. "Fine. If I must."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! Sorry about the long delay again. I just gave 3 hour-long presentations in the past two weeks, so I didn't have any time to spare during my prep stage. I will be working on the next installment of _Bound to Him_ this week and will hopefully have something ready by Thanksgiving.  
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* * *

_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-5-**

After squeezing her kneecap, he let his hand rest upon her thigh for a long moment while he studied the line of photographs. Sucking in a nervous breath, Hermione set her hands on top of his and cleared her throat. "It's a bit after the fact, I know, but… Severus, I need to know how you feel about children."

Sensing the seriousness of her question, the wizard straightened in his seat and winced briefly after jarring his knee. "To be honest, I never really thought about the prospect."

"And now what are you thinking?"

An uncomfortable expression was on his face as he considered it. After a long moment of silence, he began speaking. "I hated my father growing up – I still do – and for a long time I resented my mother for always taking his side. I realized several years later that she likely thought that by appeasing him, she could spare the both of us more beatings than she could by standing up to him. She was probably right, and I regret that it took me so long to recognize it. My father was a horrible man, and I never wanted to follow in his footsteps. I've caused so much pain in my life that I don't want to cause any more."

He sighed deeply and met her teary gaze. "I don't know anything about dealing with small children, and you know how worthless I was attempting to deal with older ones. I am well aware that most students hated me, and I would never want my son to look upon me as I did my own father. I would not abandon either of you, but if it would spare either of you potential pain, I will accept a more limited role in his life. In either case, I vow to abstain from alcohol and to better control my temper."

Realizing that he was leaving the decision to her, Hermione sniffled loudly. Picking up his hand, she kissed his palm before placing it against her chest. "Severus, I trust you. I could see how it ate at you to have to do everything Dumbledore expected of you. I know how hard you worked to keep Harry safe, and I know that you would work twenty times as hard to protect your own child. Raising your own children is so much different than teaching someone else's, so that doesn't concern me. I know it will take time to be comfortable with it, but I know you'll manage it. Merlin knows I'm still learning and making mistakes daily. I don't know what I would have done without Molly and Arthur."

"Are you certain?" he whispered.

The witch nodded emphatically. "Brendan _loves_ you."

"He doesn't know me."

"He'll get to know you," she argued, pulling his hand back into her lap. "It doesn't matter that he just met you – he loves you all the same. He asked me to tell you as much before he fell asleep."

As the wizard silently stared at her, Hermione quirked a small smile and traced a fingertip over his knuckles. "At Christmas, Brendan offered up his Godric Gryffindor and Queen Maeve cards to Bill's daughter, Victoire, for her copy of you. Ron and Bill tried to explain to him that his cards were more valuable since there's a boatload of Wizarding Wars cards currently in circulation, but he didn't care because he said you were worth more than all of the other cards combined."

Severus blinked quickly and shook his head. "I'm not…"

"But to _him_ you are," the woman explained before donning another smirk. "Ron had a bit to drink that night and happened to blurt out that you weren't the greatest chap in the world. You should have seen the scowl on his little face – it's almost as intimidating as yours, I swear – and then Harry jumped in to try and smooth things over. He told Bren that Ron just meant that sometimes you would call them names – dunderheads and what not – and I kid you not, your son crossed his arms, glared at them both, and told them straight out that that was probably because they _were_ dunderheads."

His father chuckled quietly as he closed his eyes.

"They're all convinced that he had to have been you reincarnated," she smiled. After a moment, she squeezed his hands. "Bren's the reason you found us, you know. He wanted to spend his birthday with you, even if it meant just staring at your portrait for a few minutes. And do you know what he wished for when he blew out his candles?"

Snape hesitantly shook his head.

"The thing he wanted the most in this world was to have a conversation with you. He was concerned that the reason your portrait wouldn't talk to him was because you didn't like him." Taking in a deep breath, she shrugged her shoulders. "If you just continue to make an effort with him, he'll be happy."

Tears trickled down his cheek as he leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "What if I cock it up?"

"I'm sure you will," she smirked, rubbing his back. "Just as I'm sure I will, too. But we'll figure out what we did wrong, apologize, and then do it better the next time. Brendan is just as much your son as he is mine. He's resilient, and stubborn, and incredibly smart. He'll be perfectly fine. And if I ever think you're out of line, I won't hesitate to tell you."

The wizard chuckled softly and glanced back at her. "I give you full permission to hex me."

"I would do it, permission or not, if the situation called for it," the woman claimed.

"I believe you," he smiled, sitting back against the cushion.

"So you're going to stay with us?" Hermione asked hopefully.

The man nodded as he looked to her. "I don't want to be alone any longer."

"I don't want you to be alone either," she replied.

Holding his gaze, she pushed forward until her lips met his. As the short hairs on his chin tickled her face, she giggled quietly and wrinkled her nose.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just… I'm not quite used to you with facial hair yet."

"I see," he replied. "I wasn't ready to be recognized yet, so I didn't entirely remove it. I will certainly do so if –"

"No, no! It's… I don't mind it." Hermione cocked her head as she ran her fingertips over his well-trimmed beard. "It's different, but I think… I think you should leave it for a while. It suits you."

The wizard offered her a smile as he tucked a smooth curl behind her ear. "Well, I think your hair suits you remarkably well."

"I suppose that's another thing you can thank Brendan for," she smirked. "I never realized that pregnancy would solve the issue of my uncontrollable mane. It was a bit more time consuming and expensive than a bottle of Sleekeazy's, I grant you, but so far it seems to be permanent."

He gave a quiet laugh and eyed her thoughtfully for several seconds.

"I've missed you," he whispered before pushing forward to press his lips against hers. When he gently prodded her, she immediately granted his tongue access to her mouth. While she fell deeper into the kiss, her hands gripped his collar, and his moved smoothly along her spine. Pressing farther into him, she greedily attacked his mouth as though she were trying to absorb all taste of him. Responding in kind, Severus slid his hands down to her bottom and pulled her closer. As she moaned into his mouth, the witch raised herself onto her knees and then swung her leg over his lap. Upon straddling him, she ran her hands up the back of his neck until they were buried within his hair.

"Mmmgods," she groaned before peppering his face with butterfly kisses. "I can't believe… I have you back. I've missed you… so much. Please… please, don't leave me again. I can't lose you again."

"Never," he gasped, touching his forehead to hers and kissing her nose. "I don't ever want to let you go."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't. I need you. Severus… _we_ need you."

"And I need _you_," the man replied, cupping the back of her head as he seized her lips again.

As their kisses gradually turned salty with their tears, the witch felt a desire rising within her that was stronger than anything she had ever experienced. She had been in love with him for eight years – had grieved for what he had to do, had longed for his return to her, and had mourned for his loss. The moments he had spent with her in the past had never been enough, and even though she had known that the odds had always been against them, she had still held on to the belief that they would find each other after Voldemort fell. That hope had been ripped away from her in the Shrieking Shack, leaving her with an ache in her chest that had not diminished with time.

But now, by some miraculous twist of Fate, Hermione had him back. The pang of loss had vanished, and the hope that had abandoned her had suddenly returned with a vengeance. It was burning so vibrantly that she felt she could burst at any second. Severus Snape was alive. He loved her. He was hers, and she was his. He accepted her son and wanted to keep him safe and happy. He wanted to stay. He would not leave her.

Her feelings were overwhelming to say the least. It was becoming too much to bear. She needed more of him. Lips and hands were not enough to relieve her. She needed to feel him against her. She needed to feel him inside of her.

"Severus," the woman whispered, grinding herself against his arousal. As he groaned into her neck, she bit down on her bottom lip and rocked against him with greater urgency. Her core felt as though it was on fire, and she clutched onto him tightly and began to whimper with pleasure. When his lips attached themselves to her throat and one of his hands cupped her clothed breast, she came entirely undone with a muffled cry.

"Gods," she panted, sinking against his chest. "I didn't… know that was possible with… clothes on."

Snape gave a rumbling laugh as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt. "If you're wanton enough, it is."

"Oh, you have no idea," Hermione moaned before propping herself up enough to nip at his jaw. When he began to push up her shirt, she gave a small groan and shook her head. "No… bedroom."

"But we're here now," he whispered.

"I know," she sighed, pulling back a few inches. "But if Brendan wakes up… Learning his father is alive is one thing, but I'm certainly not ready for him to learn how exactly his father _became_ his father."

The wizard exhaled deeply and leaned his head against the back of the sofa.

"Come on," the witch murmured, carefully dismounting him and holding out her hand. "I can't lock the stairs or his room, but I _can_ lock my bedroom door."

"Give me a minute, witch," Severus mumbled, wiping a hand over his face. "I need to coax some of the blood back into the rest of my limbs first."

The woman giggled until she caught sight of his cane lying on the floor. An uncomfortable feeling gripped her stomach as she eyed him soberly. "Severus… can you manage the stairs?"

With a disheartened sigh, he glanced over his shoulder at the staircase. "I suppose we'll find out."

"I could apparate –"

"No." He shook his head and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "I have to attempt it sometime. It might as well be now."

"Okay," Hermione murmured, bending down to pick up his cane before offering him her arm. As they reached the staircase, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Severus… you are okay to… I mean, it isn't going to harm you if we –"

"I assure you, _that_ part of my anatomy is fully functional," he sneered.

She snorted softly under her breath while helping him with the ascent. "I had noticed that yes, but the rest of you is also required. I don't want to injure you."

"Any pain I encounter shall be well worth it," he ground out. "Though… you'll likely have to do a bit more of the work this time."

Though she blushed, her eyes continued to hold concern as they noticed how he grimaced with every step. "I hope you realize that we will be going to St. Mungo's tomorrow to fix you."

"I do hope you're referring to my leg," Snape quipped while pausing at the top of the stairs.

The witch let out a surprised laugh and then smiled up at him. "Of course! I won't let them do anything that might jeopardize my getting laid."

"Neither will I," he murmured as he bent over to massage his aching leg.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, touching his shoulder.

The wizard sucked in a slow breath before nodding his head. "Never better."

She snorted quietly and then squeezed his arm when he stood upright. "You used to be a far better liar."

"I'm not lying," Severus stated while glancing down at her.

Her mouth parted slightly as she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him. "I love you."

"And I you," he replied, wrapping his arms about her waist. "I would suffer every pain if it meant I could be with you."

A tear trickled down her cheek as she seized his lips. A soft squeal escaped her as he placed his hands beneath her bottom and picked her up. Releasing his mouth, she stared at him with wide eyes. "Severus! You shouldn't –"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, witch," the man murmured. "Just tell me which door leads to your bedroom."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's December already... whoa. Thanks for all of the reviews! I am glad you are enjoying this story, and while many of you are ready to see Kingsley get his comeuppance, you're going to have to be very patient. Hermione is unbelievably upset with him and the Ministry, but is overwhelmed and overjoyed by Severus's return and will be focusing her attention there for a while. The news will start to spread in upcoming chapters, though, so her temper will peek through here and there.**

* * *

**\- 6 -**

After spending hours getting reacquainted with one another and exploring all of the changes their bodies had accrued throughout the years, the pair lay tangled up in each other's limbs as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. While Hermione placed several soft kisses to the violent scarring at his throat, Severus closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. After a moment, he slid one hand down her side and gently began stroking his fingertips over one of her stretch marks.

"Mmph," she sighed, stilling his hand with hers. "Don't point those out."

"You're the only one who can appreciate battle scars?" he asked.

The witch shook her head against his chest. "Those aren't from the War."

"I know," Snape murmured, "but that doesn't diminish their value."

Her cheeks heated at the statement, and she raised her head to look at him.

"You don't believe me?" he questioned in surprise. "You don't think that bearing a child is something to be honored?"

Blinking quickly, the woman lowered her mouth to his. A vibrant smile was on her face when she pulled back a moment later. "You really don't mind them?"

Severus smiled and cupped her cheek with his hand. "You are exceptionally beautiful, Hermione… and those marks only inspire me to worship you further."

"Merlin," she gasped before kissing him once again. "I would take you again if I weren't so exhausted."

"I would likely pass out halfway through," he groaned with a shake of his head.

"Well, we certainly can't have that," Hermione replied, patting his cheek. "You should get some sleep."

"As should you."

The witch placed her head back against his chest and exhaled loudly. "I don't want to sleep."

With a grunt of understanding, the wizard tightened his hold on her. "I'll still be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she whispered, closing her eyes. Fifteen minutes passed while she quietly listened to the beat of his heart, and when she realized that his breathing had not changed, she cleared her throat. "Severus?"

Exhaling slowly, the wizard squeezed her shoulder. "You're not sleeping."

"Neither are you," Hermione pointed out while she stretched her neck to view the clock on her bedside table. "There's really no point to it anyway. Brendan is usually up in an hour, and he'll be hungry, so I'll have to fix something for breakfast."

"Well, it _was_ his birthday yesterday," Snape shrugged.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there's leftover cake."

Her eyes widened slightly as she pushed onto her elbow. "Severus Snape, _Mr. Disciplinarian_, is suggesting _cake_ for breakfast? E gads, someone alert the _Prophet_."

The man chuckled quietly. "We wouldn't want it to overshadow the 'returned-from-the-dead' debacle, now would we?"

"Ugh," she groaned, snuggling against his side. "They're going to be all over you."

"Unfortunately so," he agreed. "The Minister said he could only give me a few days' head start before he releases the hounds. I imagine I've exhausted any time I had to flee."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't run. And so is Brendan."

Severus gave a soft sigh and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I was going to if I had found you living happily."

"It's not that I wasn't happy," the witch mumbled. "I've had my friends and plenty of support… and I've had Brendan. He gives me so much joy. But it was just… I didn't feel complete. There was a piece of me missing."

She glanced up at him briefly and then added, "But now it's back."

"Rather misshapen and worse for wear," he sighed.

Hermione smirked and ran her fingertips over his jaw. "Only _slightly_ misshapen… and it still fits just fine."

"Thank the gods for that," the man grinned. "If that bloody snake had launched itself elsewhere…"

"Stop it," she laughed, smacking his chest. "I was being serious, and you're thinking about your penis."

"Well, if it's any consolation, my penis is only thinking about you."

"Severus!" she playfully admonished. "I suppose it is some consolation, yes, but I'm just happy to have you back. I would be happy even if you had parts missing."

"I wouldn't be," he grumbled. "I don't know what I would have done to pass the time."

A mischievous grin spread across her face as the witch propped herself up on an elbow. "I thought you said you spent it _reading_."

With a snort, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Hermione. I spent seven years locked in a room and did nothing but read a stack of books and think entirely pure thoughts about you."

"Hmmm," she purred, pressing her lips against his. "Someday you'll have to tell me about these less-than-pure thoughts you've had about me."

"Mmmperhaps," Snape replied as he smirked up at her. "And what about you? It's been nearly seven years. Why weren't there any men in your life?"

Hermione blew out a long breath as she pulled herself into a seated position. "Well, at first I really didn't have any time or energy –I had a baby and NEWTs to deal with— and once things started to calm down a bit, I really just didn't have the inclination. It never felt right. I mean, Brendan has plenty of male influences in his life and I made sure that he knew about you. Obviously, he's wanted some interaction with you, but I think that was because he wanted to know his father and not because he needed a stand-in father-figure. We were okay, just the two of us."

The wizard watched as she left the bed long enough to fetch a nightgown from her wardrobe and pull it over her head. When she returned to perch beside him, he slowly sat up and scooted backward to rest against the headboard. Clearing his throat, he rested one hand upon her thigh and waited until she looked to him. "I am sorry for leaving you in that position... but I think you've done a remarkable job."

"Well, I don't know if I would call it _remarkable_," she sighed while slipping her fingers between his, "but I've managed. Molly and Arthur insisted upon our living at the Burrow for a few years until we all thought I could handle it on my own. And I was incredibly lucky to find a job that I can do from home primarily."

"What is it that you do?"

She quirked a small smile. "I'm a junior editor for a _reputable_ academic journal."

"Reputable," Severus murmured, narrowing his eyes. "Is it one with which I might be familiar?"

"Perhaps," the woman giggled while remembering the contents of an angry tirade he had once given regarding the editorial-ship of a few select Potions journals. "_The Practical Potioneer_."

As he grimaced, Hermione pulled on his hand. "Wait! Just listen. The former editor-in-chief—I believe you knew him as Old Dipshit McDuggins?– got the sack, oh, about four and a half years ago. You see, it turns out he had made some ridiculous declaration about never accepting or supporting the work of a young Potions Master who had contradicted his theory regarding the use of runespoor eggs for strengthening mental acuity. Well, it just so happens that that same contradictory Potions Master – who he claimed was of poor training and low moral fiber – not only sacrificed himself to bring down an evil tyrant bent on destroying the world as we know it, but was also responsible for a number of potion breakthroughs that have healed and or saved hundreds of witches and wizards over the past decade. Suddenly, a number of supposedly less-renowned journals were receiving attention for having published his work, leaving several to question just why the young Master had never graced the pages of Britain's premiere Potions journal."

The wizard snorted but kept his gazed locked onto her as he listened.

"And when an editorial in the_ Daily Prophet_ posed that very question, it led to a number of responses, including one anonymous letter –which may or may not have penned by that heroic, young Master's former assistant and secret lover – that gave an explicit explanation as to why _The Practical Potioneer_ had committed the largest academic faux pas in recent history." The brunette inhaled deeply and shrugged her shoulders. "And then Dipshit McDuggins was out, a progressive-minded member of the editing team was selected to replace him as editor-in-chief, leaving an opening to be filled by an eager, enthusiastic, at-times-insufferable, know-it-all witch with the drive to eliminate the ridiculous boundaries existing in the academic realm."

"Hermione, I –"

She held up her hand. "Hold on, I haven't quite finished my story. A few weeks into her tenure at the _Potioneer_, this junior editor used what some have called her exceptional talent for badgering to convince the editorial board to peruse decades' worth of rejected and ridiculed proposals to determine whether something of value had been overlooked. Lo and behold, they came across three papers submitted by the heroic Potions Master that had been rejected and ignored. After consulting with a number of other Masters across Europe and the States, the board was able to validate his findings and unanimously recommended all three papers for publication. And… this is my favorite part… based upon his evidence, many of those Masters have been inspired to re-examine and rework the standard treatment for the mentally-addled, leading to a number of new draughts in clinical trial, many of which are presently showing significant promise."

Snape stared at her for several seconds before shaking his head in disbelief. "You did _all_ of that?"

The woman smiled and nodded her head. "You're a brilliant man who deserves to have his work recognized. I knew that your ideas were worthwhile and needed to be shared. Besides, your name got me the job in the first place. I don't exactly have the degree of training they generally require, but the mention of my assistantship with you encouraged them to overlook it."

"Well, at least I managed to provide for my family in some means," he mumbled, still unable to fully comprehend everything she had done.

Hermione laughed softly and then leaned into him, kissing his lips. "You have no idea how happy I am that you just called us your family."

Inhaling sharply, the wizard threaded his fingers through her hair and held her firmly as he kissed her in return. With a soft moan, she sank against his chest and welcomed him into her mouth. Minutes later, they drew apart at the sound of a muffled creak.

"Mm," she whispered, patting his shoulder. "Bren's up."

"Ah."

Giving him a brief peck on the lips, the witch climbed off of the bed and snatched a robe off the back of a chair. While tossing it over her shoulders and tying it about her waist, she swept toward the door. She pulled it open just in time to catch her sleepy-eyed son by the shoulders and turn him around to face the opposite side of the hallway. "Loo first."

"Ohhkay, Mummy."

After watching the boy disappear into the bathroom, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. "I'll take Brendan downstairs for breakfast. If you want to join us now, you're welcome to, but you can get some rest."

Spotting the bathroom door opening out of the corner of her eye, she raised one eyebrow at her son. "Hands?"

"Oh yeah," Brendan yawned, stepping back into the room to wash his hands.

Severus smirked slightly at the exchange and then cleared his throat. "I'll come down in a moment. I ought to use the loo myself."

"Well," she grinned, "Be sure to wash your hands when you do."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! Finals week here, and I have about 5 papers due this week. Since I don't have a lot of free time to work on stories, I thought I could at least quickly edit and post this. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!  
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_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-7-**

"Did Daddy go away again?"

Hermione smiled down at her son and smoothed her hand over his hair. "No, sweetheart. He's still here. He'll be down in a little while."

The boy's eyes lit up as he paused on the last step of the staircase. "Is he going to stay with us, Mum?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Yes!" Brendan shouted as he jumped off of the stairs. After running into the kitchen, he hopped onto a chair at the table. "I can't wait to tell Teddy!"

His mother froze at the statement. Swallowing uncertainly, she rested one hand on the back of a chair. "Erm, Brendan… about Teddy—"

"His mum and dad aren't coming back, are they?" he interrupted quietly.

"No, baby," she replied, stroking the back of his head. "They can't."

"Thought so," the child murmured. "That's why their pictures talk to him. They wouldn't if they could come back."

With a small smile on her face, Hermione bent down to kiss the top of his head. "I still can't believe how smart you are."

Patting his shoulder, she walked further into the kitchen and opened up a cupboard to fetch three small plates.

"Hey, Mum. I was wondering… since I have both my parents, and Teddy doesn't have any… can I share you and Dad with him?"

A soft laugh escaped her as she looked over her shoulder. "Well, you see, he does have a grandmother who takes care of him, and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny –"

"But I have Granma Molly and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, too, _and_ Granpa Thur."

Hermione grinned as she did every time she heard her son talk about Arthur Weasley. She had spent a great deal of time attempting to get him to say '_Ar_thur' when he was smaller to no avail, but now that he _was_ capable of saying it, he rarely did so. Since the Weasley patriarch did not mind the odd shortening of his name in the least, and she thought it rather adorable, she had ceased her contrived attempts to correct him.

Momentarily lost in her wool-gathering, she forgot that her son was waiting for an acceptable answer. Growing impatient, Brendan leaned forward in his seat and pointedly stared at her.

Pinching her lips together to keep from giggling at his expression, the woman took in a deep breath. "I think… perhaps… erm, we'll have to get your father settled in… and, oh Merlin… and if Teddy would like to spend time with us… it shouldn't be a problem…"

The boy raised both eyebrows as he watched his mother struggling not to laugh, and the action was enough to send her over the edge.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled in between giggles while covering her face in embarrassment.

Her son frowned briefly in confusion and then lifted one eyebrow.

"Oh gods!" Hermione gasped before dissolving into another fit of laughter. It had always been bittersweet to see Severus's expressions on their son's face, but now that she knew the man was alive, well, and hers to keep, there was no residual sorrow accompanying her joy.

"Mum?"

She waved her hand in dismissal and spun to face the cupboard once again while gulping down air. Since she had been laughing too hard, she had not heard the creaking of the stairs as her lover slowly descended to the main floor. As such, when she turned back and found two matching looks of concerned uncertainty, it was almost too much to bear. Nearly doubling over, the witch took another minute and a half to calm down. Wiping tears of mirth out of her eyes, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. It's just… the two of you… I'm really fine. Severus, please do sit down."

Snape quirked a small grin as he watched her fetch the leftover cake, and then limped toward the nearest unoccupied seat.

"Morning, Dad!" Brendan greeted boldly when he finally trusted that his mother was alright.

"Good morning," he replied. After a moment, he rubbed his chin and leaned an elbow onto the table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh-huh. Did you, Daddy?"

The wizard paused briefly and glanced up at Hermione, who had approached the table with two slices of cake. "It was certainly one of the best nights I've ever had."

"Birthday cake? For _breakfast_?" the boy exclaimed, staring first at the plate and then at his mother in disbelief.

The woman gave a shrug as she handed him a fork. "It was your father's idea."

Brendan looked to the man beside him and then back at his breakfast. A wide grin exploded on his face as he stabbed his fork into the icing and whispered, "Best birthday ever."

"Severus – coffee, tea, or juice?" Hermione asked as she stepped away from the table. "I think I'm going to need coffee myself."

"I quite agree," Severus nodded.

After setting the percolator onto the stove, the witch quickly filled a glass with orange juice for her son and then leaned back against the edge of the countertop. She was just about to say something when she heard the Floo flare to life in the sitting room.

"Hermione!" a familiar voice shouted. "You'd better bloody be awake!"

"In the kitchen!" she returned, biting back a laugh when Severus groaned.

A second later, a wide-eyed Harry Potter appeared in her line of vision.

"Hermione! You're never going to guess what I've just heard, but Snape is…" he stopped suddenly and then dropped his voice several levels, "…sitting in your kitchen… eating cake?"

A smug smirk appeared on Snape's face as he raised another bite to his mouth. "Astute as ever, Potter."

"Sir, you're… you're…" Harry swallowed nervously and then flicked his gaze toward his best friend. "You knew?"

The woman drew in a slow breath at his hurt expression and shook her head. "Not until last night."

Severus sighed as he set down his fork. "I take it this means that a correction regarding my current metabolic state is presently plastered across the front page of the _Prophet_?"

"N-no, sir," the younger wizard stammered. "Well, I mean, there's likely going to be a special edition printed to announce that… you're alive… but Kingsley just Flooed to tell me in person before he tells the press. I just… I can't believe… you're alive."

"How eloquent," the spy sneered.

"But _how_?"

"I think that's a conversation to be held another time," Hermione stated, gesturing her head in the direction of her son. "Don't you agree, Harry?"

"Oh… of course," the Auror nodded before donning a smile and tousling the boy's hair. "Hey, Brendan! How's my buddy today?"

"Good," the child replied, beaming up at him. "We're having cake for breakfast!"

"Really?" he gasped, leaning forward. "That's a fantastic idea!"

"Uh-huh," Brendan agreed. "You want some?"

Harry shook his head, patting his stomach as he pulled out a chair. "Oh, no, I'm alright. Your Aunt Ginny stuffed me up plenty this morning."

"Okay," the boy giggled. "Hey, are you going to take me flying again today? You said yesterday that you would the next time you saw me. You see me now."

"I did say that, didn't I?" the man chuckled. "I tell you what… if you ask your mum, and she thinks it's okay, I'll take you up. Got it?"

Brendan nodded eagerly and then turned his expectant gaze up at his mother. "Mum, is it okay?"

Hermione exhaled loudly as she set a coffee mug in front of his father and then sank into the sole remaining seat.

"Please," the boy begged. "I'll wear my hat and mittens _and_ scarf! Please, Mummy, _please_!"

The witch bit down on her bottom lip as she flicked her gaze to Severus, who was impassively staring at what remained of his cake. After a moment's consideration, she nodded her head. "Yes, you may go flying with Uncle Harry."

"Yes!"

"But finish your breakfast first," she chided. "And then go get dressed."

"Okay," he replied before determinedly shoveling his last few bites of cake into his mouth. After slurping down his juice, he flew out of the kitchen and raced up the staircase.

Harry chuckled quietly and pushed out of his chair. "Well, I guess I'll go fetch the Firebolt then."

With a slight grimace, Hermione stood and hurried after him. When they were both in the sitting room, she hissed his name.

"Yeah?" he murmured, turning around at the fireplace.

Folding her arms to her stomach, she approached him. "After you go flying, can you and Ginny keep him for a while?"

"Erm, yeah," her friend replied, narrowing his eyes at her sober expression. "I suppose so. Is something wrong?"

The witch shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I don't know really. I need to take Severus to St. Mungo's today, and I don't think that Brendan needs to be there. I'm not certain how long it will take, so if you and Gin are busy, can you take him to the Burrow?"

"We didn't have any plans, so we can certainly watch him," Harry answered. "Is he… is _he_ alright?"

She grimaced and let out an irritated huff. "They didn't treat him."

"What?"

Hermione glanced back in the direction of the stairs before answering. "Narcissa Malfoy saved him. She started treating him, but when the Aurors took her and Draco into custody, they also took him and locked him away somewhere else. He can't remember much, and wasn't fully conscious until that Christmas when Kingsley came to see him.

"Harry, he couldn't _do_ anything. He couldn't even speak for year, and who knows how bloody long he laid there completely paralyzed! His leg is hurting him – he's trying to play it down, but I _know_ he must be in pain – and do you know what he _told_ me? That he should be grateful for the pain because until two years ago he couldn't feel that leg at all! Which means… that for… for nearly five years, he couldn't… he probably couldn't walk… and no one told him that… that he's a hero… and he didn't even know… if I was alive… and… he didn't... kn-know...ab-bout..."

"Hermione," her friend sighed, wrapping his arms about her quivering frame. "Calm down."

"How _could_ they?" she whispered into his robes. "How could they do that to him? After everything…"

"I don't know," Harry growled, "but I'm certainly going to make sure that Kingsley knows my feelings on the matter."

"Kingsley knew damn well who Brendan's father is, and yet never bothered to tell Severus that he had a son." The woman pulled away from her friend and angrily shook her head as she gestured to an armchair. "He sat right bloody there not even a week ago and commented that their resemblance was uncanny. He _knew_ about Brendan; he _knew_ about my relationship with Severus; and yet he didn't make an effort to tell either one of us that the other survived! Notice that I haven't even received a personal Floo call, and Severus was released days ago!"

"Well, he probably figured that you would hex his bollocks six ways from Sunday," he snorted.

She glared at the fireplace and then sighed. "When you speak with him, would you do me a favor? Tell him he can take his job offer and shove it up his –"

"Mum!"

Hermione pinched her eyes shut and wiped her face before turning around to face her son. "Yes, baby?"

Brendan held up his green scarf as he came down the stairs. "Can you help me?"

"Of course," she smiled, moving toward him. Grabbing hold of it, she made quick work of wrapping it around his neck and tucked it under the collar of his coat. "There you go. Now, be a good boy for Uncle Harry."

"Okay," he agreed after she kissed his forehead and patted his bottom. "Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!"

The witch looked up to see Severus leaning in the doorway to the kitchen with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Ready to go, bud?" Harry asked, catching hold of Brendan as he ran toward him and swinging him up onto his shoulders.

"Yep!"

"Alrighty then," the man laughed. When he reached the fireplace, he lifted Brendan off of his shoulders and set him back onto the floor. Holding out the container of Floo powder, he allowed the boy to open up the connection and then gave a tense smile toward the other two occupants of the room. "I'll see you soon, Hermione, and I'm really glad to see you again, sir."

"Come on, Uncle Harry!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!"

As the green flames swallowed them up, Hermione sighed and moved toward her wizard. Concerned by the injured expression on his face, she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Are you alright?"

Though he tightened his jaw, Severus covered her hand with his and nodded.

"Do you want anything more to eat or drink?"

"No."

The witch sucked in a quick breath and gave a quick nod. "I guess I'll pop upstairs quick and get dressed for the day, and then we could head over to St. Mungo's while it's still early. As long as you're agreeable, of course."

"That should be acceptable."

She blinked at the quiet statement and then slowly pulled away from him. His complete lack of protest about venturing out into public for treatment could only serve as confirmation of her fears regarding his current level of pain. Severus Snape, changed or not, was a proud and stubborn man who hated having to admit when he needed help.

Pausing momentarily at the head of the staircase, she looked over her shoulder and noticed him staring solemnly in the direction of the fireplace. Though her gut twisted with anxiety, Hermione exhaled deeply and whispered assurances to herself. "We're going to figure this out. Everything's going to be okay."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! I couldn't get an update for the others ready in time, so I wanted to make sure to give you something to read! Thank you all for the reviews! **

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**-8-**

"Severus."

The wizard lifted his eyes from the floor to meet her concerned gaze. "What?"

Hermione offered him a small smile and slipped her hand over his. She could feel his anxiety radiating off of him in waves, and she knew that were he able to, he would be presently pacing the width of the examination room. "You don't need to worry so much."

He sighed deeply and then scowled at his cane. "And what if they can't do anything? What if this is just a colossal waste of time, coming here just to be gawked at, pointed to, whispered about, and then sent away."

"They'll be able to help," she replied, squeezing his hand. "You just have to trust them."

When he snorted disdainfully, the witch rested her head on his shoulder.

"If you can't manage that, then trust me. I can feel it."

Severus exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead. "We've been sitting here for nearly an hour."

"I'm sure they had to fetch the specialist," the woman hypothesized. "It _is_ the week-end. He likely wasn't scheduled."

"Well, they –"

The door opened suddenly to admit a greying wizard in lime green robes. "Good morning. I'm Cornelius Forthwright. You are obviously Ms. Granger. I believe we spoke briefly at the last Memorial."

"Yes, I remember," Hermione nodded, shaking his hand.

"And you, sir…" The Healer gave an astonished sigh as he heartily took hold of Snape's hand. "I can honestly say that I never expected to have the chance to speak with you. It is truly an honor, sir. I apologize for having kept you waiting this long – I was visiting my daughter in Gloucester, and frankly I first thought Sinclair was taking the piss when she Floo-ed me."

"I understand completely," the witch smirked, though her paramour remained silent. "I couldn't believe my own eyes at first."

Forthwright nodded in understanding and then conjured a third chair for himself. "Well, then… if everything my daughter mentioned regarding her time in your classroom is accurate, I know that you would prefer it if we get to the point. I can personally attest that you have not received attention for Nagini's wounds here at St. Mungo's, but have you been treated elsewhere?"

Taking in a deep breath, Severus shook his head and then provided an abbreviated version of the past seven years.

"And you say Narcissa Malfoy was the one to stabilize you?"

"Yes, that is what I was told."

There was a brief flash of pride in the Healer's expression. "Narcissa trained under me for a year or so until she decided to marry and start a family. She was always rather competent, so I'm not surprised that she was capable of keeping your heart pumping. If anyone could figure it out, it would be her."

"Erm," Hermione cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. "Do you mind if I ask how?"

"Oh, of course," Forthwright smiled. "We haven't had many chances in which to study Nagini's effects, so when encountering her victims, it certainly was a lesson in trial and error. What we've discovered is that the lethality of her bites is not due to the venom so much as it is to the blood loss caused by the bite itself. You see, her saliva was infused with a magical property that prevents all manner of healing, and while the effect does diminish over time allowing for gradual healing of a wound, a victim would generally bleed out long before that point."

Grimacing, the witch cast a nervous glance in the former spy's direction and found him again with an unreadable expression.

"However," the Healer continued, "if one is able to continuously make up for the blood being lost over the course of a few days, the blood will begin to clot again, and the wound can be healed. The venom, of course, will still continue to wreak havoc with the nervous system, causing pain and paralysis, but the patient stands a fair chance of survival. At this point antivenin can be introduced to clear away some of the venom and relieve those symptoms. It is safe to say that Narcissa got you to the point where she could cease the bleeding, but either had no access to antidote or was interrupted before she could administer it."

"Will it do any good to administer it now?" Severus asked quietly. "It's been years."

"I think it will," he stated confidently. "Obviously, your body has been trying to heal itself naturally, which is why you've made progress, however slow it may have been. That venom, though, is almost as stubborn you seem to be. I did not realize that the first time around and have had to treat the patients with a series of antivenin instead of a single dose."

The dark-haired wizard eyed him with uncertainty. "How many victims actually survived long enough for you to treat?"

"Counting you?" Forthwright replied with a strange smirk. "Three."

"Arthur Weasley," he muttered and then frowned.

"And Harry," Hermione added, knowing that the wizard was likely sorting through a list of possible victims in his head.

Snape looked to her in surprise. "Potter was bitten?"

"Yes. In Godric's Hollow, at Christmas," she replied. "It wasn't a very large bite, since Nagini was trying to hold him for Voldemort instead of trying to kill him. I managed to heal him with dittany, but neither of us thought anything more of it until several months after the Final Battle. His arm started feeling like it was on fire and would, at times, seize up on him. We actually couldn't figure it out until Arthur mentioned he had been having similar symptoms. I knew they received treatment here, but I didn't really pay that close of attention to what it was."

"I find _that_ rather hard to believe," the Slytherin quipped.

His witch snorted quietly and rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, when one is going into labor, one generally tends not to concern herself so much with details about other people."

"I see," he murmured, somewhat sheepishly, before returning his eyes to the Healer. "What must be done then?"

"Firstly, I have a few standard assessments to make, and after that, we can go ahead and start the first antivenin treatment. I won't lie to you, sir… it isn't pleasant. Once you ingest the antivenin potion, it will work its way through your body drawing out any of the venom it can find. The action will cause similar symptoms to what you have already experienced since it will essentially be reintroducing the venom to your body, but it should pass after a few hours' time. Likely, you will feel sickly and feverish for the remainder of the day, but with any luck, shall feel far better tomorrow than you have in a long while."

Taking in a deep breath, Hermione could not help but smile as she briefly pressed her forehead into his shoulder.

"Depending on the damage already done, we may not be able to get you back to pristine condition," Healer Forthwright commented, "but we can certainly make life a fair deal easier for you."

Severus nodded slowly and tightened his hold on her hand. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting another miracle."

"Perhaps we can manage half a miracle," the Healer smiled. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward in his chair. "Now, if you could tell me about your present condition… I notice you appear to have some difficulties in walking – are other aspects as challenging?"

The wizard shrugged solemnly. "Everything's a bit slower. Moving my arms is not as difficult as I've had more time to… practice, I guess. I don't feel the same level of pain with that any longer, but any motion of my legs is accompanied by prickling or burning sensations."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione whispered, drawing away from him in concern. "I didn't mean to harm you at all."

Her lover placed his hand on her thigh and shook his head. "I could manage it."

"And the level of pain?" Forthwright asked. "On a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain at all and ten being –"

"The _Cruciatus_?" Snape interrupted with a dark smirk. "I would say it's a consistent five with periodic bursts of eights."

As the witch winced, the Healer gave a professional nod. "Have you attempted anything more strenuous than walking about?"

The Slytherin gave a slow nod. "Stairs. The pain was closer to a seven or eight then, but it was more difficult going up than coming down."

"Always is," Forthwright sighed gently. "Anything else?"

Hermione guiltily glanced up at her wizard and then stared at him pointedly when he attempted to shake his head. "Severus."

He flicked his eyes to her briefly, but otherwise ignored her implied instruction.

"Severus," she hissed. When he only shook his head again, the woman rolled her eyes and faced the Healer who was eyeing them with a curious expression. "What he is neglecting to mention is that we had sex early this morning."

"I see," the man smirked. "And how was that?"

Her cheeks burned while his eyes hardened into a glare.

"Pain-wise, I meant," Forthwright quickly clarified as he held up a hand. "I don't need to know anything else."

Her stomach twisted anxiously as she waited for the response. Though he refused to say anything on the subject, she could discern the truth simply through his silence. Pinching her eyes closed briefly, she covered her face with her hands. "Gods, Severus. I'm so sorry!"

"Well, you shouldn't be," he muttered softly. "I'm certainly not."

"But it hurt you!"

Snape shrugged. "I was aware of the consequences."

Hermione shook her head. "You should have said something. We shouldn't have done that. I should have brought you here last night instead of waiting. I knew you were in pain, but I just... I wasn't thinking rationally. Severus –"

"Perhaps we might discuss this later?" he whispered.

"It's alright," the Healer stated. "Believe me, I understand. If I had been kept apart from my wife for years, you can bet all the gold in Gringotts that medical care would not be at the top of my priority list."

The witch rolled her eyes as her lover gave her a pointed look, and then rubbed her forehead as she sighed, "Men."

Forthwright gave a small smile as he watched the exchange and then quickly carried out a few diagnostic charms. Once he had finished jotting down the details, he leaned forward and cleared his throat. "Sir, if you're ready to proceed, we can. Otherwise, we can certainly schedule another day if you would prefer."

Without a moment's hesitation, Snape shook his head. "I would prefer to go ahead with it today."

"Alright," the Healer nodded, standing from his chair. "You'll want to lie down for this, of course. I'll just need a few minutes to prep the antivenin, and then we can get started. It will likely take a few hours to clear, so I would suggest making use of the loo beforehand."

As the Slytherin did as suggested, Hermione sat silently in her chair for a few minutes while she tried to calm her anxiety. When she heard the faucet running, she stood and folded her arms, nibbling on her bottom lip until the door to the private lavatory opened again. She watched the wizard amble unevenly to the bed and then cleared her throat. "Severus, are you sure you're ready for this?"

The man slowly nodded after sitting upon the edge of the bed. "I just want to get on with life. It shall not be any easier if I delay."

"No, of course not," she sighed, reaching for his hand.

Severus wrapped his fingers around hers and met her eyes. "If this is going to take as long as he says, I don't want to waste your day."

"You aren't wasting anything," the witch chastised. "I won't leave you alone."

"If you need to be with Brendan…"

Hermione shook her head and pulled a chair a few inches closer. "Brendan will be fine. Harry's agreed to keep him as long as we need."

Exhaling deeply, the wizard slipped his hand from hers so that he could swing his long legs onto the bed.

"Unless you would prefer it if I left?"

His eyes snapped to hers, and he shook his head at the question. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when the door opened.

"Alright, sir," Healer Forthwright greeted quietly, closing the door behind him. He held up a flask of dark green liquid as he crossed the short distance of the room. "If you're ready, I am."

Hermione stepped out of the way while the potion was administered. When the Healer had finished giving instructions and had moved to take a seat in the corner of the room several minutes later, she returned to her lover's side. Sitting down, she gathered up his hand in both of hers and gave him a smile. "Everything's going to be alright."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," he murmured.

"I gave up on hope once," she replied honestly. "I won't do it again."

A brief smile toyed at his lips as he squeezed his fingers around hers, but faded a moment later when he laid his head back against the pillow.

"Are you alright?" she asked in concern.

Grimacing, the wizard nodded. "I'm fine."

The woman pinched her lips into a thin line as she scooted the chair as close to the edge of the bed as she could. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He drew in a pained breath and closed his eyes. "Just… keep talking… please."

"Okay," she nodded vigorously. Resting her forearms on the mattress, she leaned forward and tucked his hand against her chest. "Anything in particular? Because you know perfectly well just how capable I am of inane chatter."

Severus snorted softly under his breath and then shook his head. "Anything will do. I just want… to hear your voice."

"Well, I'm glad to know someone cares for it," the witch smirked. "Alright, shall I tell you about Brendan, then?"

At his affirmative grunt, she quietly, but enthusiastically, launched into a detailed account of anything regarding their son that happened to pop into her head. She told him about all of the typical milestones – first words, first steps, first signs of magic – the boy's preferences – foods, books, activities – and a few of the more interesting memories she had accrued over the past six years. Though she could see that he was tensing up in pain and his color was increasingly worsening, she continued talking in the hopes that she was giving him something positive on which he could focus. Only when Healer Forthwright stepped in to cast a monitoring charm and ask a few questions of the patient did she cease.

Hermione inhaled sharply and felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes when her wizard admitted being presently unable to control any of his limbs. Worried that perhaps she could be causing him some sort of injury, she gently laid his hand back against the bed and placed hers atop it. While the Healer continued his inquiry, she squeezed her lover's hand and closed her eyes.

"Hermione?"

Her eyelids immediately flew open, and she vaguely noted that Forthwright had returned to his seat before clearing her throat. "Yes?"

A heavy breath escaped the prone man. "You're still there."

"Of course, I am," she replied, glancing down in concern. "You can't feel my hand?"

"N-no." He shook his head and swallowed slowly. "Just… fire."

"Fire?" the witch repeated, yanking her hands away from him. "I'm sorry, Severus! I didn't mean to make it worse."

"No," he corrected with a grimace. "Not… your fault."

Hermione hesitantly touched two fingertips to the side of his pinkie finger and then wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Is it very bad?"

"Not _as_ bad," the wizard ground out through gritted teeth. "Will be done… far sooner."

When she remained silent, he added, "I can hear you worrying."

"I don't like seeing you in pain," she whispered.

"You do not need to –"

"Severus, I'm _not_ leaving you," she interrupted. "I didn't bring you here so I could make you go through this alone again."

There was a relatively long pause before he murmured, "Is Brendan… a family name?"

A small grin managed its way onto her face as the witch accepted the change in subject. "In a manner of speaking."

His eyebrows narrowed in concentration, and a chuckle escaped her as she explained. "I had no idea what to name him for the longest time. It wasn't something I had thought about at all before then. I only knew that Dad had made me promise never to name any of his grandchildren anything as common as his name because he had always hated being one of a million 'John's… and I figured you might haunt me for the rest of time if I made 'Severus' his first name."

When he snorted in agreement, she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Anyway, I spent ages pouring through books of names and diplomatically shooting down everyone else's suggestions. I had a sizable list of possibilities, but when I decided finally to look at the meanings of the names, I knew Brendan was the right choice."

"Oh?"

"It means 'prince'."

Snape very slowly raised his head as his eyelids fluttered open for the first time in nearly an hour. His mouth parted as his bloodshot eyes fixed themselves upon her face. "You… _both_ of his names?"

"After you? Yes." Hermione smiled and gently slipped her fingers through his unresponsive ones. "I would have given him your surname, too, but the Ministry apparently does not allow unwed mothers to do such a thing without explicit consent from the father."

"I am sorry…"

"It isn't your fault, Severus. It –" Her statement died away in her throat when he gave an agonized groan and his head suddenly fell back to the pillow. Launching to her feet, she felt panic surge through her system at seeing his somewhat labored breathing. "Severus!"

The witch glanced fearfully to the Healer who had appeared at the bedside. Forthwright calmly executed a number of monitoring charms and then gave her a reassuring look. "He'll be alright. The antivenin has drawn enough venom out of his tissues that his voluntary system has shut down temporarily. His autonomic functions, though, are and should remain quite stable, which is good. Once the potion has had the chance to clear out some of the venom, he should gradually become more capable of speech and movement, and the pain will continuously diminish."

"Okay," she whispered, eyeing Severus. "Can he… is he conscious?"

The Healer frowned in consideration and folded his arms. "In and out, more than likely."

"Would he be able to hear me?"

"Possibly," he shrugged.

Hermione nodded slowly and then took in a deep breath. Gesturing to the opposite side of the bed where there was more open space, the witch asked, "Do you think I could...?"

Forthwright smiled and stepped backwards. "It certainly won't do him any harm, so by all means…"

"Thank you," she murmured. After patting Snape's hand, she quickly rounded the end of the bed and then crawled onto the stiff mattress. Stretching out alongside the wizard, she propped her head up with one hand and brushed a few strands of hair out of his face with the other.

"Hi, Severus," she greeted quietly, pressing her lips lightly to his temple. "I don't know whether or not you can hear me, but if you can… Know that I am here with you. I will not leave you this time. I will still be here when you wake up; I promise you this. The pain will go away… we will go home… and we will get through this together. Okay?"

A small smile dawned on her face as she gently traced her fingers over his cheek. "I am going to fuss and fret over you until you snap at me about not requiring a nursemaid. And then, quite simply, I will ignore you and continue doing so anyway because I love you. I love you, and will never leave you unless you ask me to. And even then, I will only do so if I feel the request is sincere.

"I really do hope you can hear me," she sighed before resting her head against his shoulder. "Because I think it's something you need to know."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Well, the plan was to spend the holiday getting a good chunk of writing done. Of course, that was a total disaster. I have about half an update for _Bound to Him _and_ Shepherd's Passage_, so I really, really hope I can get something finished this week.  
**

**Happy New Year! And thank you for continuing with me.**

* * *

_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-9-**

"—mione…"

"Mmmph," she murmured, squeezing her eyes tighter and burying her nose into the soft linen which smelled deliciously of Severus.

"Hermione."

The linen smelled of Severus. Severus was alive. He had come back to her, but he was not fully the same. He was more subdued, averse to being alone, and in pain. Pain. Her eyes snapped open at the thought, and she immediately pushed up into a seated position. Her heart pounded quickly as she noticed that his dark eyes were trained on her.

"Severus!" she gasped. "You're awake!"

"I didn't want to wake you," he replied, "but I believe I'll need to use the lavatory soon."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and wiped her face. "Oh. Erm… how long was I asleep?"

"Oh, I'd say about three hours," Forthwright smiled as he strode forward and began assisting the wizard out of bed.

"Three _hours_?" she repeated in shock. Clambering down from the bed, she stood to the side and watched while the Healer guided the Slytherin toward the bathroom door. "Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep!"

Snape flashed her a strained smile before coughing. "If I tell you to stop apologizing for all things inconsequential, are you going to ignore that as well?"

The woman opened her mouth to protest, but fell silent upon realizing that he had to have heard at least some of what she had whispered to him. With a graceful blush gracing her cheeks, she sank back into her original chair and waited silently for the two men to re-emerge. She grimaced a at the muffled sounds of retching coming from behind the door, but consoled herself with the knowledge that he was upright, fully aware, and on the mend.

"Now, I realize that you feel sicker than a thestral at the moment," the Healer commented moments later while opening the lavatory door, "but you really are faring just as well as I could have hoped, sir. There isn't anything more I can do for you today, so if there is somewhere else you would rather recuperate…"

"There is," the Slytherin rasped.

"I thought as much," Forthwright chuckled. "Ms. Granger, I suppose I shall leave him in your capable hands, then. He'll need to rest today. Plenty of fluids. I wouldn't push anything much for food until tomorrow. Broth or soup, perhaps."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, bending down to retrieve the cane before moving to Snape's side.

"If either of you have any questions, don't hesitate to Floo. Otherwise, I'll see you again in a few months." The Healer nodded to Hermione and then touched the former spy's shoulder. "It's been an honor, sir. I wish you all the best."

After profusely offering her gratitude, the woman turned toward her lover, who was leaning miserably against the wall. "Home?"

He gave a slow nod, but held up his hand when she made a motion to wrap her arms about his waist. "I might vomit on you."

"I have a six year old, Severus. I'm quite used to being vomited on." When the man only eyed her skeptically, she sighed loudly. "The Floo station is two floors away, and you know that Floo-ing, too, is relatively nauseating. Furthermore, you hardly appear to be in any condition to walk that far right now. Though, I could levitate you—"

Snape groaned in disgust and pushed himself away from the wall. "Alright! Just… just don't stand in front of me."

Agreeing to his demand, Hermione took hold of his hand and neatly apparated them both back to Roseling Cottage. As soon as she had solid footing in her sitting room, the wizard lurched out of her grasp and became ill on the hardwood floor. Her nose wrinkled in disgust not at the action, but at the dark, nearly black, hue of what had been expelled. Knowing it was a result of the treatment, she was extremely relieved that the venom was coming out of him, yet just as angry that it had been left to fester inside of him for so long. Though she would love for nothing more than to march down to Kingsley's office at the Ministry of Magic and turn him inside out, she knew that her priority was to take care of Severus. Disembowelment could wait.

She ran her hand soothingly over his spine as he continued coughing, and when he finally straightened, she placed her hands on both of his arms to guide him over to the sofa. After summoning two glasses from the kitchen, she used an _Augamenti_ to fill one and then held both out to him. "Rinse out your mouth, love."

Begrudgingly, the man did as she instructed – rinsing several times with the water from one glass and spitting into the other. When he was done, she banished the glasses back to the kitchen and then touched the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin was quite hot to the touch, and she could tell that he was shivering lightly. Without bothering to ask him, she snatched up the afghan from the back of the sofa and began tucking it around him.

"Is that enough, or should I fetch you another blanket? Hmm?" Hermione frowned when he did not respond and then sighed when she noticed him staring guiltily at the floor. Touching his face, she gently cleared her throat. "Severus, look at me. It's alright. I'd rather it be on my floor than stay inside of you."

With a grimace, she cast a silent spell over her shoulder, causing the pile of blackened bile to disappear. After setting a brief scrubbing charm to work, the witch smirked down at Snape. "After nearly four years of living full-time at the Burrow under Molly's wing, I've become quite adept at housekeeping spells."

He nodded once and then closed his eyes.

His girlfriend squeezed his shoulder gently and then summoned a bucket from beneath the kitchen sink. "There's a small powder room beneath the stairs if you need the loo. If you can't make it there in time, though, it's okay. And this is a vanishing bucket. It's come in quite handy whenever Brendan comes down with something."

Severus frowned as he watched her set the bucket on the end table. "Does he become ill quite frequently?"

"No more frequently than any other small child does, I imagine," she shrugged. "Were you ready for some tea? Or broth?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want to lie down and sleep for a bit? I can make the sofa a bit larger for you, and grab another blanket if you need. And a pillow or –"

"Hermione, just sit down."

The woman smirked and drew in a slow breath. "I will in a moment. Just as soon as I fetch you some more linens. I can't remember which ones have or haven't been laundered recently, otherwise I would just summon them. I'll be back in a moment."

"Hermione, I don't need –"

Ignoring him, she moved to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to quickly transfigure the couch into something roomier.

"Witch!" he snapped as the cushions expanded beneath him.

Hermione giggled quietly as she hurried up the stairs to raid her linen closet. When she returned a moment later with a stack of blankets and pillows in her hands, it was all she could do not to laugh at the dark expression on his face. "Don't look at me like that. I gave you fair warning that I would make a fuss."

"It doesn't count if you told me when I was unconscious," he grumbled.

"Seeing as you heard me, you weren't exactly unconscious," she countered snarkily. "Therefore, it counts."

Snape huffed loudly as she stuffed one pillow behind him and another beside him. "Woman, would you just sit down!"

"Alright, alright," she murmured while shifting to sit beside him. Gently pressing the back of her hand against his warm forehead, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like a bloody fucking invalid!"

Biting down on her lip, the witch snickered and let her hand fall to his lap. "Well, I'm pleased to see that some of your snarl has returned."

His eyes quickly met hers. "What?"

"I've missed it," she explained with a shy smile. "I mean… I will love you in any way, shape, or form, but it's been odd to see you so subdued. I happen to like you with a little bit of… bite."

"Is that so?" the man questioned before suffering a minor coughing fit. A moment later, he sucked in a deep breath and leaned his head back against the sofa. "I'm not certain exactly how much 'bite' I have left in me anymore."

Hermione scooted closer to him, resting a hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder. "Just enough."

With a soft snort, Severus covered her hand with his. After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat. "Did you need to check on Brendan?"

"He's fine with Harry. If something happens, I assure you that Ginny will send her Patronus on the double," she replied with a yawn. When she heard him grunt strangely in response, however, her eyes opened widely, and she sat upright. Suddenly, his behavior before they went to St. Mungo's was beginning to make some sense. "Severus, are you upset that he's spending time with Harry?"

The Slytherin grimaced, but shook his head.

"Then what is it? Something is the matter, and I would like to know what it is."

"It's not –"

"Don't lie to me," she stated forcefully. "I can tell when something is bothering you. Every time I caught you watching the two of them interacting this morning, you looked like you did when you were Occluding. If you're worried about leaving Brendan in Harry's care, I can assure you that Harry is really good with him and –"

"I could see that," he muttered crossly.

The woman frowned and rested her elbow against the backrest. "Okay, then the reason you're upset is what, exactly?"

A moment passed before he closed his eyes and whispered, "I don't know that _I_ can do that."

"Do what? Interact with Brendan like Harry does?" When he nodded, she gave a short laugh and shook her head. "Severus, you'll be fine. Harry's had six years of practice – well, seven, considering Teddy - and he's had his own son to deal with for the past two years. Merlin, you should have seen him at the beginning! I swear he acted as though they were landmines or something equally dangerous and unpredictable. He was more afraid of holding a baby than he was of facing that Horntail in fourth year! If Harry can make that much progress, I have every faith that you will manage perfectly fine."

Looking as though he did not quite believe her, the wizard pulled the afghan tighter around his shoulders. "Who is Teddy?"

"Oh," Hermione blushed, "I guess I forgot that you probably wouldn't know. Teddy Lupin – Brendan's best friend and Harry's godson."

"Lupin?" he repeated. "I suppose it must thrill him to no end that my child is best friends with his."

She inhaled slowly and looked down at her hands. "Erm, Severus... Remus passed away."

"What?" Snape gasped, turning to look at her.

"He was killed," she answered, "during the Battle at Hogwarts."

He pushed himself into a straighter position and frowned. "Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"I suppose, then, that you and Nymphadora have had something in–"

"No," Hermione interrupted, wiping a tear from her eye. "Remus and Tonks – they were both killed; Remus by Dolohov and Tonks by Bellatrix. Teddy was only a few weeks old then. Andromeda's been raising him."

Severus closed his eyes and clenched one hand into a fist around the afghan.

"Stop it," she exclaimed while tugging on his arm. "Severus, it wasn't your fault."

"I should have killed them," he muttered. "I wanted to...knowing everything they had done to you."

"I know," the witch sighed, "but I'm glad you didn't. If you had... you probably wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have this chance together."

He nodded slowly and then fixed her with a concerned look. "Where are they now?"

"Dead, thankfully. Filius incapacitated Dolohov after he killed Remus, and he was sent to Azkaban. He tried to escape during his trial, and an Auror used a lethal spell. And Bellatrix... she tried to kill Ginny also during the Battle, and Molly engaged her in a duel to the death."

"Molly Weasley," he repeated, almost incredulously.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Yeah. If you thought her Howlers were nasty, you should see her hexes. Bellatrix should have known better than to threaten a mother's child... especially after already losing one child."

"Which child?"

She flinched upon realizing that he could not have known that either, and then cleared her throat. "Fred. During the Final Battle."

A sad expression appeared on the Slytherin's face as he averted his gaze to the floor. "Who else?"

Pinching her lips into a thin line, the witch slipped her hand into his. "Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey. Professor Sinistra. Professor Vector. Dedalus Diggle. There were so many."

"Minerva?" he asked fearfully.

The woman smiled and squeezed his hand. "She's alive. Been Headmistress ever since, and is still a force to be reckoned with."

"And Poppy?"

"Still at the school," she nodded, "though, she's been making noises about retiring."

Severus blew out a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands. "What about Draco? What happened to him? And Narcissa?"

Hermione grimaced. "Azkaban. Harry testified on their behalf, but it wasn't enough to spare them. Lucius received fifty years, but since Draco at least _tried_ to keep his friends from killing Harry, and Narcissa lied to Voldemort about Harry still being alive, they were given lighter sentences. Narcissa is eligible for her first release hearing next month, and I think Draco will have one in May. Harry's demanded to be allowed to testify again."

"I'd like the chance to speak for them, as well," the former spy stated quietly.

"So would I," she replied, returning her head to his shoulder and wrapping her arms about his torso. "Because of them, I still have my best friend, the man I love was able to come back to me, and my son has his father. I owe them every gratitude."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Just a few more chapters to go on this one. Thank you all for reading!  
**

* * *

_**Hope Reawakened**_

**-10-**

Hermione startled awake at the sound of the Floo activating. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced behind her to ascertain that Severus was still asleep and then carefully disentangled herself from his arms. Silently, she crept to the fireplace just as Harry's head appeared in the grate.

"Shhh…" she cautioned, dropping to her knee. "Severus is sleeping."

"Okay," Harry nodded. "How is he?"

The woman briefly glanced over her shoulder and then shrugged. "I think he's improving. The Healer said he would feel far better tomorrow."

"Trust me, he will," the wizard nodded. "I felt like absolute shite for –"

"Harry James Potter!" came Ginny's muffled shout. "Your son repeats everything you say!"

"Sorry!" he called back before clearing his throat. "I meant, I felt like absolute rubbish until the next morning."

"Good," she murmured. "Well, not good that you felt that way, but that it passes soon."

"I knew what you meant," Harry chuckled. "Anyway, besides the fact that I have a rather jittery six year old wanting to go home, I have to tell you that I spoke to Kingsley again."

"Oh? Did you give him my message?"

"Erm, not exactly."

"Harry!" she hissed.

"You can tell him yourself," he suggested with a grin. "Tomorrow morning, eleven, at Grimmauld Place."

"What?"

"Kingsley's decided to convene an Order meeting. He thinks they ought to know that Professor Snape is alive before the rest of the Wizarding World does."

"Oh, how magnanimous of him," she sneered, settling back on her haunches.

"Merlin, the Professor's back amongst the living one day, and you're already sounding like him," the man teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Watch it, Potter."

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "Now about this squirrelly child jumping up and down…"

"Send him through," she smiled.

"Mum! I –"

"Shhh," she warned, catching hold of her son by the shoulders. "Daddy's sleeping right now."

"But we just had supper. It can't be bedtime yet!"

His mother giggled softly and touched his face. "No, not yet. But, listen to me, Bren. Are you listening? Daddy doesn't feel very good right now. Do you remember when you had the Black Cat Flu last year?"

Brendan's face fell as he glanced over her head to the couch. "Daddy has the Kitty Flu?"

"No, no," she shook her head. "He just feels like you did then, but he'll be better tomorrow. Tonight, though, you need to be quiet and calm, alright? Just until he feels better."

"Oh-kay," he sighed glumly. "But can I stay down here?"

Hermione pressed her lips to his forehead and then patted him on the behind. "Of course you can, darling. Are you hungry?"

"Nah-uh. Aunt Ginny stuffed me up plenty!"

The witch snorted beneath her breath and hauled herself to her feet. "Remind me to thank Uncle Harry for teaching you to speak so eloquently."

"Okay, Mum," he nodded before moving toward the armchair and hauling himself onto the cushion.

She watched him in mild amusement for a moment and then whispered, "Are you just going to sit there, or would you like something to do?"

When Brendan simply shrugged, his mother sighed and retrieved two brightly-colored books from the nearest bookshelf. After handing them to her son, she hauled him up enough to sit beneath him on the chair and then placed him upon her lap. As the boy snuggled back against her, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her nose in his silky hair.

After half an hour passed in relative silence – punctuated with only the repetitive sounds of pages turning and Snape's deep breaths of slumber – the young wizard pressed his head back against his mother's chest and sighed, "Mum, I'm hungry."

"I thought Aunt Ginny stuffed you plenty," Hermione murmured, tickling his sides.

Squirming, Brendan giggled and shook his head. "Guess I found room."

"Oh, did you, now?" she teased. "And just how shall I fill it, hmm?"

"Cake!" he squealed amidst laughter.

The woman grimaced, realizing that she would wake up Severus if they continued, and then stilled her fingers. Quieting her son down, she kissed his temple and shook her head. "You finished your cake this morning, remember."

"Oh, yeah. Can you make another one?"

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not baking another cake. It would be bedtime before it was even ready."

"Okay," the boy sighed. "Then porridge."

"Porridge?" she repeated incredulously. "You want porridge before bed?"

"Well, I had cake for breakfast," he said pointedly.

"Fair enough," she snickered, pushing out of the chair. "Porridge, it is. And let your father sleep."

"Yes, Mum." Smiling when the witch ruffled his hair on her way into the kitchen, Brendan picked up his book again and settled back into the chair. Within a few minutes, he felt his eyelids beginning to droop.

"What are you reading?"

With a gasp, the boy glanced up to see that his somewhat rumpled-looking father was awake and blinking at him. Peering around the edge of his chair, he grinned at finding that his mother was still occupied, and then quickly scampered out of the chair and over to the sofa. As the former spy grimaced and slowly propped himself up, his son climbed onto the cushion beside him and then flattened out the book on his lap.

"It's called _Denny the Dragon_," he explained. "Denny's a dragon, but his mum loses him when he was still an egg, though, so when he hatches, he's all alone in the Enchanted Forest. Then he finds Henry, and they become friends. Henry's a hippogriff. The rest of the animals are scared of Denny, but Henry's not. They play together all the time, but then Henry's little sister Hillie gets lost in an ice storm and no one can find her. But Denny does, and he keeps her warm with fires until the ice stops. When they come home, everyone's happy and they don't care that Denny's a dragon anymore 'cause he's a hero."

"I see," Severus murmured, glancing down at the colorful page. "It sounds... like a good story."

Brendan nodded as he closed the book. "It's my favorite."

"Ah." The man paused for a moment to push off some of the blankets that Hermione had piled on top of him. "Did you know that your mother once flew on a hippogriff?"

"Oh, yeah!" the boy exclaimed with a smile. "She flew on a dragon, too!"

"She did?"

"Mmm-hmm. Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry told me that like three times, I think. Mum flew on a lot of things, but actually she doesn't like flying."

Snape smirked. "No, she certainly does not."

"Do you like flying?"

"I do, yes."

Brendan's eyes widened noticeably as he looked up at him. "Can you fly like Uncle Harry does?"

"I'm not certain that I can fly as well as _that_ anymore," the Slytherin sighed, "but I believe that I could still manage a broom."

"And you can take me flying?"

His father chuckled softly and nodded. "I'll have to purchase a new broom first, but yes, I could do that."

"And can you teach me how to fly?" he pressed. "Uncle Harry won't because he's scared of Mum."

"As well he should be," Severus remarked before raising one eyebrow. "Does your mother not want you learning how to fly?"

Brendan blew out a sad breath. "She says not until Hogwarts."

The former professor snorted and shook his head. "Well, I most certainly cannot allow _my_ son to attend his first flying lesson without proper preparation on commanding a broom."

"Does that mean you'll teach me?"

He flicked his eyes quickly toward doorway to the kitchen to ensure that it was still empty. With a mischievous grin, he bent down and whispered in his son's ear. "Just as long as you don't tell your mother."

Without warning, the little wizard launched himself forward, wrapping his arms about the man's neck. Squeezing as tightly as he could, the boy murmured, "I'm glad you came back, Daddy."

"So I could teach you how to fly?" he questioned in an amused tone while tentatively touching the back of the boy's head.

"Uh-huh," Brendan nodded against his shoulder, "and so Mummy won't have to be sad anymore."

Snape stiffened at the quiet statement and pulled back enough to be able to look down at the boy's face. "What?"

His son shrugged his shoulders. "Mummy always cried a lot 'cause you went away, but now you came back, so she'll be happy and not sad."

The ex-spy drew in a pained breath as he listened. He remembered just how quickly the boy had tried to comfort Hermione after had she briefly broken down at the museum. "Brendan, look at me. I want to thank you for taking care of your mother while I was gone. You have been a very good boy. Now that I'm here, though, you don't need to do so much of it anymore. Understand?"

"'Cause it's your job now?"

The tall wizard nodded. "It's my job now."

"Good," Brendan replied, sagging slightly in relief. "'Cause I don't do a very good job. She was sad a lot."

Straightening his spine, Severus cupped the child's face with one hand and stroked his thumb over the child's cheek. "I don't believe that that is true at all. You have done an excellent job of it, and... I am proud of you."

"Really?" When he received an emphatic nod in response, the boy again pressed himself tightly around his father's chest.

The man closed his eyes briefly as he fully returned the embrace, and then whispered, "Brendan."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I want you to know," he breathed, "that had I been able to, I would never have left the two of you alone. I would have been here... for you... and for your mother."

"I know, Daddy," Brendan replied, squeezing him tighter. "Mummy said you would."

Swallowing slowly, Snape looked toward the kitchen. His heart skipped at seeing Hermione standing in the doorway with tears glistening on her cheeks.

Upon realizing that she had been caught eavesdropping, the witch swallowed heavily and wiped at her eyes. Clearing her throat, she mumbled, "I was just coming to tell him that the food was ready, but... erm... Would you like some more tea? I can put some..."

She trailed off when he shook his head. Inhaling deeply, she nervously clasped her hands in front of her. "Do you want some broth? Or... can I get you anything else?"

"Hermione," he stated softly.

"Yes?"

"I would prefer it if you would stop fussing and take a bloody seat." When Brendan giggled against his chest, the wizard winced.

"Don't worry. He's heard worse," Hermione smirked as she stepped toward the sofa. Perching beside her two wizards, she quickly touched her wrist to Snape's forehead before he had the chance to complain. "Fever's broken, then? Good. Are you feeling a bit better?"

Severus nodded and then cleared his throat. "I can honestly say that I've never felt better."

His witch grinned brightly and leaned forward, bringing her lips to his. "Nor have I."

After a chaste kiss, she nestled into his side and placed one hand upon their child's backside.

"I didn't wake him up, Mum," Brendan exclaimed, turning his head so that he faced her but still kept one cheek against his father's robes.

The woman chuckled and gently touched his cheek. "I know, baby. It's okay. Now, are you going to eat your porridge?"

The boy scrunched up his face in consideration before slowly blinking and letting out a big yawn. "I dunno..."

"You're that tired, huh?" she murmured in disbelief, watching as his eyelids fell shut. "After all that work I put in to make you food?"

When only silence met her teasing, she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. When she noticed Severus frowning at her in confusion, she stretched up to whisper in his ear. "He tends to feign sleep when he thinks he might get in trouble... thinks I'll take pity on him."

The man snorted softly, and she could see that there was a look of pride in his eyes as he murmured, "Seems you've raised yourself a Slytherin."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that, love?"

"Oh, I think you have more than your fair share of cunning," he replied.

"Is that so?" Hermione smirked, pressing her lips against his once more. He made an affirmative groan as he returned her kiss, and when they separated, she returned her head to his shoulder. After a few minutes, she whispered, "I could stay like this forever."

"Mmm," he grunted. "I suppose we'd have to turn over every so often, though, so as to avoid bedsores."

The witch laughed in spite of herself and then slapped his arm. "Yes, well, as charming a picture as you've painted... Kingsley's scheduled an Order meeting for tomorrow morning, so we'll have to venture away from the sofa."

"Is it absolutely necessary that you attend?"

"Considering it's entire purpose is to announce _your_ return, I would say so."

The man groaned and rolled his eyes. "They all read the _Prophet_."

Hermione snorted. "Kingsley's holding back the hounds for another day, and we've only been to St. Mungo's, which is magically bound to maintain confidentiality."

When he did not say anything in return, she ran her fingertips through the shorter hairs on the side of his head. "We don't have to stay terribly long. Maybe an hour or so, and then come back home."

"I suppose," he shrugged, staring into the fire.

"It will be alright, love," she assured him with a small smile. "I know that Arthur and Molly would love to see you... and George, of course."

Snape shook his head in disbelief. "I'm the reason he lost his ear."

"And kept the rest of him," the witch chided, tugging gently on his hair. "He's been exceptionally grateful to you ever since Harry explained what he had seen in your memories of that night. He's even tried to honor you, you know... in his own way."

"Oh, don't tell me there's a Whiz-bang named after me."

"Not that I'm aware of," the woman giggled. "However, Skiving Snackboxes are half-price on your birthday."

The man raised one eyebrow. "There are no words to express how flattered I am."

"Oh, I'm sure there are. You're just not trying hard enough."

"Indeed," he grunted.

"But seriously," the woman murmured, "He's told me several times how thankful he is. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't be here... wouldn't have gotten married... wouldn't have become a father."

"Weasley?" he scoffed.

"Mmm," she nodded. "Little Freddie's almost three now, and Angelina is due in a few months with their second. A girl, they think. He's still George Weasley, of course, but he's become rather responsible since... since the War ended."

"Well, wonders never cease."

Hermione bore a small smile and briefly pressed her forehead against his shoulder. "You shouldn't worry about it, Sev. They'll all want to see you. They know how much there is for which they need to thank you."

"It's not that I think they'll be ungrateful," the wizard replied before taking in a deep breath. "It's just... you don't know what it was like at Hogwarts that year. It was... I allowed things to happen that were..."

"I know," she whispered gently. "I know what you had to do, darling. We all do."

Severus closed his eyes and slowly smoothed one hand along his son's spine. "I just don't want you to be surprised if things don't go well."

"I think you might be the one surprised, then," the woman smiled before adjusting her position on the couch. "If anyone is going to have to beat a hasty retreat, it's going to be Kingsley. I still haven't decided what I'm going to do with his testicles after I relieve him of them. I'm sure George will have a few solid suggestions."

"Hermione," he grunted, glancing pointedly down at their son's head.

"What?" she shrugged. "He's asleep. It usually happens within a few minutes whenever he tries to pretend."

"Hmmm," he rumbled with a smirk. "Slytherin in theory, Gryffindor in practice, then."

"Oh, stuff it," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Bren'll want to introduce you to Teddy, by the way. He asked me this morning if he could share us."

"Share us?"

She nodded as she pushed into an upright position. "You know, since he has two parents, and Teddy doesn't have either of his. He really astounds me sometimes."

The man noticed her blink back a few tears and caught hold of her hand when she began to stand. "Takes after his mother."

Hermione gave a quiet laugh and wiped her eyes with her free hand. Leaning down, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then straightened to her full height. "I can take him up to bed now. I know he gets rather heavy after a while."

When he swallowed hesitantly and glanced down at the sleeping child, she grinned and shook her head. "If you'd like to keep him, you can! He can even sleep down here with us tonight if you're not ready to give him up."

"Well... I..."

She snorted softly. "I'll fetch his pajamas in a minute, then."

Severus watched her pick up the discarded book beside him and then set it on a nearby end table. "He said that was his favorite book."

"Oh yeah," his lover smirked. "We visit Denny the Dragon at least twice a week. He told me once that he liked it because it reminded him of you."

His eyebrows rose at the comment. "What?"

"Well, you do have to admit - there are some parallels there." A mischievous glint was in her eye as she folded her arms. "I believe I may have likened you to a dragon once or twice upon a time."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Speaking of dragons, what is this I hear of you -"

"Oh, of _course_ he told you that!"

"Was it Potter or Weasley who came up with that hare-brained scheme?"

The witch shifted awkwardly and scrunched up her face before answering, "Actually, it was sort of _my_ idea."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! I have the next chapter just about ready for editing, and then there ought to be one more after that. Thank you all for your love and reviews!**

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**-11-**

"Nearly ready, Bren?" Hermione shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yep! Coming!" came the muffled cry. A few seconds later, the boy appeared with a bulky bag tossed over his shoulder. "I didn't know which toys I wanted to bring."

"So you brought them all?"

"Not all. Just a lot. In case I need them."

Hearing a loud snort behind her, the witch turned around to see Severus smirking from the armchair. When his lips parted, she held up one finger in warning. "Don't you dare say it."

Brendan looked up at his mother in confusion and then to his father. "Say what?"

"Nothing," she intoned, steering her son toward the center of the room.

"Say what?" he repeated.

"Just that you are your mother's son," Snape explained, earning an eye roll from the woman in question.

"Oh." The boy frowned and looked up at his mum. "But I am, right?"

"Absolutely," Hermione smiled, ruffling his hair. "Your father is just teasing me, because I used to do the same thing with books."

"You do like books!"

"I do, yes," she sighed before raising her eyes to meet her lover's. "Are you ready to go?"

Snape exhaled deeply as he pushed out of his seat, using his cane to steady him. The pain had remarkably diminished, but the stiffness the Healer had explained would fade with time still remained. "Not exactly, but don't let that hold us up."

"Severus," she murmured, touching his chest. "It's going to be alright. You'll see."

"Yes, well... just promise me you won't do anything that could see you sent away," he replied, slipping one arm about her waist.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I don't believe you have anything to worry about."

"Not if you promise to leave the Minister's anatomy intact."

Smiling, she pressed her forehead against his sternum and then kissed the underside of his chin. "I promise. I shall keep my assault entirely verbal."

"Hermione," he protested, cupping the back of her head with his other hand. "I just got you back; I can't lose you again."

"You won't. I just... after... what they did to you-"

"It isn't worth it," Snape whispered into her hair.

"Are we gonna go or not?" Brendan whined, impatiently smacking his bag of toys against the sofa.

His parents both snorted quietly before pulling away from each other. Hermione extended her hand toward the boy, who jumped forward to take it before holding out the hand holding his toys to his father. The tall wizard felt a small smile creep outwards as he took the bag, slipping the drawstring over his wrist, and then wrapped his long fingers over his son's.

Beaming, Hermione squeezed her boy's hand, slipped her arm around Severus, and then prepared to disapparate. A second later, they appeared with a loud pop on the front stoop of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Ready?" she asked. As the Slytherin stiffened and tightened his grip on his cane, she placed one hand on Brendan's head and then knocked on the door.

Within the matter of a few seconds, the door was pulled open to reveal Harry's smiling face. "Professor, Hermione, Bren - hello! Come in, come in! So far it's just us, Andromeda, and the Weasleys, but the others should be here soon."

"How many Weasleys?" Severus grumbled under his breath, causing Hermione to snicker as she steered their son into the house.

"It's just easier not to count, sir," Harry replied good-naturedly as he closed the door behind them.

"Yes," the former spy sneered as he glanced about the entryway, "double digits can be tricky."

The witch laughed once and turned back to see her best friend rolling his eyes.

"I don't know how we've ever gotten by without your guidance, sir."

"Miracles do happen," Snape replied, meeting her gaze briefly before frowning up at the uncovered portrait of Walburga Black. "For instance, she seems inexplicably silent."

"Took me a few years, but I figured it out," a new voice explained. "Isn't that right, Wally?"

Severus followed the portrait's death glare to see George Weasley leaning against the end of the staircase. He swallowed heavily upon seeing the odd scarring on the left side of the ginger wizard's head where an ear should be.

"A couple of simple charms we developed for some of our sweets, gave them a conditional trigger, and used the typical portrait spells for the base," George explained, stepping forward. "Long story, short: she says anything foul, bubbles spill out of her mouth, her hair turns bright purple, and she farts feathers. Took her a few tries, but she came around."

He patted the frame playfully. "Such a sweet, ol' gal now, aren't you?"

Mrs. Black scowled darkly and readjusted herself in her seat.

"Professor," George greeted, holding out his hand. "It's good to see you again. When Gin told me this morning, I could scarcely believe my ear."

Snape grimaced as he shook hands and then cleared his throat. "I... am sorry."

The younger man smirked and briefly touched the side of his head. "No worries, Professor. At least now Mum can't tell me I'm supposed to listen twice as often as I speak. Oh, and of course, chicks dig scars."

"Gross!"

"Gross, he says!" George chuckled, grabbing Brendan about the waist and quickly spun him in a circle. Setting the boy down again, he tapped him on the nose. "Just how do you think _you_ got here, little man?"

As a slight flush appeared on Severus's face, Hermione stepped forward, seizing her son's hand and giving George's shoulder a hard shove. "Not funny."

"We app'rated!" Brendan declared loudly. "That's how we got here."

"Indeed," his mother agreed, fixing George with a glare when he giggled.

Severus cleared his throat as he prepared to follow his family down the corridor. "You got lucky, Weasley."

"It seems you have as well, Professor," the ginger-haired wizard returned with a waggle of his eyebrows.

The Slytherin opened his mouth to snarl, but caught Hermione's gaze when she glanced over her shoulder. His eyes dropped briefly to the swell of her blue jean clad bottom as she led their son into the library, and his lips upturned into a slight smile. "So I have."

Ignoring whatever undoubtedly-inappropriate comment Weasley had to offer, Severus stiffly made his way down the narrow corridor, but slowed down considerably as he neared the library door. George may have forgiven him, but he could not see how Arthur and Molly could ever do the same. If anyone had disfigured his son – or had allowed him to be treated as cruelly as Ginevra had been during his reign at Hogwarts – he would find it exceptionally difficult to not kill them, let alone forgive them.

Or Andromeda, who had lost both her daughter and her husband, and had to watch her grandson grow up parentless. He had not knowingly contributed to any of their deaths, but the fact still remained that he had been given a chance at happiness when they had not. His son would now have both parents to care for him, while her grandson would have neither.

A small hand touched his, and Severus looked down to see his son attempting to tug him forward. Snorting under his breath, he knelt down and pulled the boy closer. He was not as certain about how the day would turn out as Hermione appeared to be, but he knew with all certainty that he did not want his son to fear him. "Brendan, whatever happens… whatever you may hear… I love you, and I love your mother, more than anything in this world. You will remember that, won't you?"

"Yeah."

"If I tell you to go upstairs, will you do so immediately?"

Brendan frowned in confusion, but gave a decisive nod.

"Good lad," Snape murmured before standing. He continued to hold on to the child's hand. "Lead on, then."

"Hermione, dear, you don't need to lurk in the doorway," Molly stated warmly as she looked up from the knitting in her lap. Her husband sat beside her on the sofa, reading the paper, while Andromeda chatted amiably with Ginny, who was holding little James on her hip.

"Come and sit!" The elder witch patted the empty cushion beside her before spotting the tall wizard entering the room behind Hermione. "Oh, have you brought someone? I didn't realize you were seeing any…one. Oh, my… heavens and stars… Arthur!"

Hermione grinned widely as she watched Molly slowly stand, forgetting her knitting, which fell to the floor in a tangle. Blinking several times, she gaped at the doorway and reached behind her to slap her husband's shoulder.

"Arthur! Arthur!"

Arthur Weasley glanced up at her in concern and then looked to where she was pointing. His eyes widened with surprise, and his rumpled paper quickly joined his wife's knitting on the floor as he rose to his feet. "Merlin's beard!"

A loud gasp emanated from Andromeda, while Ginny failed to hide a smile as she met Hermione's gaze.

"Granma! Granpa!" Brendan puffed out his chest and held up the hand that was attached to his father. "Daddy came back!"

"I see that," Arthur smiled, stepping past his shocked wife. Patting the boy's head, he cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Severus Snape, as I live and breathe. I must say I never expected this."

"Nor did I," the younger wizard replied gruffly. He nervously looked around the room before returning his eye to the man in front of him. "I hear that I have you and Mrs. Weasley to thank for –"

"Oh, nonsense!" Molly cried, shoving her husband out of the way to force a motherly hug on the unsuspecting wizard. "You helped protect my babies; it was only fair to return the favor."

"Well, I…"

"Ohhh!" Molly tightened her embrace.

Hermione watched him stiffly receive their greetings until she poked her head out into the hallway at the sound of the front door opening. She had wondered if it was Kingsley, but when it only turned out to be another round of Weasleys, she relaxed for the moment.

"Heya, Mione!" Ron exclaimed as he attempted to pry Victoire from one of his legs. He looked behind him for assistance, but found none. Bill was engrossed in conversation with George and Harry, while Fleur was busy fetching the articles of winter clothing that little Dominique was eagerly tossing about the entryway. With a shake of his head, the man decided to struggle onward, hauling the giggling blonde girl with him.

"There seems to be a strange growth on your leg," Hermione teased.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Getting heavier by the minute, too."

"Oh, Ronald!" Molly called out upon seeing her youngest son. "Look who it is!"

As Severus turned to cast an uncomfortable look at his witch, Ron came to a sudden standstill. Disappointed, his niece tugged impatiently at his knee, nearly causing him to lose his balance while his eyes bugged out of his head. "Snape?!"

"Professor Snape," Ginny commented cheekily.

Ignoring his sister, the wizard shook his head in disbelief. "Holy… you're alive? You're fucking alive!"

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped, gesturing toward the two children nearest them. Across the room, Ginny placed a hand over James's head and glared.

"You said a bad word," Brendan giggled, leaning back against his father's hip.

"Yes, I did," the redhead winced, rubbing his face. "And you should never say it until you're old enough to not have to do everything your mother tells you."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Molly hissed, while Hermione smacked his arm.

Brendan cocked his head. "How old is that?"

"When you're forty-five," Severus replied automatically, squeezing his son's shoulder.

"Is that how old you are?" the boy asked, looking up at him.

Realizing that it was, in fact, his exact age, the former spy grimaced and sheepishly glanced at Hermione. When she returned his gaze with a reassuring smile, he took in a more confident breath. "It is."

Brendan spun around so that he was facing his tall father. "So you don't hafta do everything your mum tells you anymore?"

Given the fact that the majority of instructions Eileen Snape nee Prince had given him had to do with keeping his mouth shut, his head down, and keeping out of the house as much as possible, he could easily answer in the affirmative. At the same time, however, he could feel several pairs of eyes staring intently at his person. "I do not, but that's only because now I do everything _your_ mother tells me."

A number of chuckles filled the air, and Hermione blushed fiercely as she stepped out of the way so that Bill and Fleur could enter the library. She grinned at Severus before he was distracted by their exclamations of surprise, and then returned her attention to the front door that had again opened.

"Oh, good morning, Hermione," McGonagall called, while Poppy nodded from behind her. "Are you waiting for someone in particular?"

The young woman nodded her head. "Kingsley. I need a word with him."

"You mean to tell me that he isn't here yet? He demands we all be here on short notice and yet isn't on time himself. I had to reschedule a meeting with the Board of Governors for this!" Minerva shook her head in frustration as she strode into the library. Upon noticing the dark-haired man surrounded by Weasleys, she raised her eyebrows in confusion and then completely froze.

The chatter of those gathered almost immediately died away, and all of the Weasleys drifted toward the edges of the room. All of the room's occupants over the age of seven knew that the last time the two former colleagues had seen each other was when they had squared off against each other in the Great Hall. Several of them had personally witnessed him deflecting each of her nasty strikes before fleeing the castle to the sound of her screaming about his cowardice.

"You," she stated sharply before taking a few cautious steps forward.

Severus swallowed nervously and gently steered his son behind him to stand with his honorary grandparents. Praying that the stern witch would keep in mind that there were small children present, he took in a slow breath and cleared his throat. "Minerva…"

"Severus Snape."

There was a hard edge to her voice, and he ducked his eyes to avoid seeing the anger and betrayal he knew was held within hers. He remembered perfectly well how angry she had been with him during the year he had served as Headmaster. She had undermined him at every turn, and if it had not been for her concern for the welfare of her students, he was entirely certain she would have challenged him far sooner than she did.

It seemed that everyone held their breath, and Hermione bit down on her bottom lip as she watched the current Headmistress continued to approach him at an almost glacial pace. Her earlier confidence that everything would be alright had deflated somewhat, and she was starting to grow concerned that Minerva had more unresolved anger that she had not admitted to in the past seven years.

"Minerva," the wizard tried again. "I am sorry –"

"You son-of-a-bitch," McGonagall whispered before suddenly launching forward and throwing her arms about his neck. As the tension in the room dissipated, tears were evident in the woman's eyes as she squeezed him tighter. "Gods, why didn't you tell me? Everything I did… everything I said to you… I am so bloody sorry, Severus! If I had only known…"

Snape hesitantly returned the embrace and glanced over her head to where Hermione stood in the doorway with her hands covering her mouth. When she lowered her hands and gave him a teary smile, he closed his eyes and relaxed in Minerva's grasp. "I'm sorry I couldn't. You weren't supposed to know. You did exactly as you needed to."

The elder woman sniffled and pulled back to look up at him. Touching his cheek with one hand, she smiled as much as her tears allowed her to do. "Am I ever so glad to see you again, Severus. I've tried so hard to get your bloody portrait to wake up so I could apologize, and… but where have you been?"

The wizard grimaced. "I believe that that is a conversation that is best had when not in front of children."

"Oh," she gasped, stepping back and glancing about at the silent room. "Oh, of course."

As Madam Pomfrey stepped up to give a similarly warm embrace, Hermione pulled her eyes away at the sound of a loud knock on the door. Harry and George stopped their conversation to open the door, and when a familiar bald head appeared in her line of sight, her face hardened into a glare. Without glancing back at the library, she folded her arms to her chest and forcefully strode down the hallway.

"Oh, Hermione!" Minister Shacklebolt greeted. "Good morn—"

"Kitchen," she snapped, pointing down the narrow staircase. "Now."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks for the continued reviews! A few more chapters left after this, methinks.**

**And now for Kingsley's bollocksing... I hope you all enjoy.**

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**-12-**

Donning an apologetic expression, Kingsley nodded before gracefully descending into the kitchen. As soon as the witch appeared in the room behind him, the large man turned to face her. "Hermione, I –"

"YOU _THREW_ HIM IN _PRISON_!" she cut him off with a loud screech.

He winced and held up his hands. "I can –"

"FOR _SEVEN_ YEARS!"

"Hermione, please."

"He was alone and in pain, AND YOU LET HIM SUFFER!"

"Please –"

Refusing to recognize his attempts to speak, Hermione slowly began walking toward him as she continued snarling. "You KNEW we cared for each other, and you KNEW he had a son, but you DIDN'T TELL HIM! You KNEW he was alive, you KNEW where he was, and you didn't TELL ME! You didn't even FUCKING TELL HARRY!"

Kingsley took a few steps backward until he ran into the edge of the table. "I tried to –"

"You were the ONLY one who knew where he was, and you didn't even check on him!" she snapped, poking her finger accusingly into his chest. "He needed medical care, but YOU DIDN'T GIVE A FLYING SHIT, DID YOU?"

"I—"

"After EVERYTHING he did for us, you would do _that_ to him? HOW _COULD_ YOU?"

"I can explain!" Kingsley shouted desperately.

"Oh, I suggest you do exactly that, Minister," a new voice growled, "before _I_ do something that would earn me the rest of my life in Azkaban."

Hermione spun around quickly to see Minerva standing in the doorway. Harry stood beside the woman, warily eyeing her brandished wand.

Kingsley swallowed nervously and used the brief distraction to slip around to the other side of the table, to which he then gestured. "Could we all sit down and –"

"NO!" the two witches shouted in unison.

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. "Alright, alright. Will you at least allow me to preface by assuring you that I had no wish to treat him poorly? It was not by my design. I did what I thought I could."

"Enough posturing," McGonagall snapped, gesturing with her wand and causing Harry to twitch nervously. "Explain, now."

The Minister drew himself to his full height and nodded. "You all know how hectic that summer was after the Final Battle. The entire Ministry was in disarray at the time that the Malfoys were apprehended, and I was in and out of court rooms all day. As acting-Minister then, I was given a memo every day of the scheduled trials. I was in transit to Draco Malfoy's hearing –"

"You didn't attend his hearing," Hermione stated bitterly. "Harry and I – and Minerva – were there. We all gave testimony. You said you would, but you didn't bother to show up."

"I know –"

"_He_ was sentenced for six-and-a-half to twenty-five!"

"I _know_," Kingsley huffed. "And I _was_ going to be there! But then I noticed there was a second trial scheduled at the exact same time. I knew what a media circus the Malfoy trials were to be, and given there was a trial scheduled in the lowest-level courtroom, furthest from the one being used for Malfoy, logged only under the prisoner detention number and no name… it didn't sit well with me. When I got down to the courtroom, I found out it was Severus's trial. I didn't even know he'd been taken into custody. I didn't even know he was alive, because you all told me he was dead."

"We thought he was," Minerva grumbled in defense. "You never told us otherwise."

"As soon as I realized, I tried to stay the trial until an adequate defense could be provided. My request was denied because the hearing had been listed on the schedule the required number of days, and they claimed there had been suitable time to develop a defense."

Hermione shook her head in frustration. "But he was unconscious! He couldn't defend himself!"

"I know. That's why _I_ opted to represent him instead of sitting on the Wizengamot. I thought my testimony would be more beneficial to him than my single vote. I did everything I could, I swear to you. I told them everything I knew, everything that Harry told me. I couldn't testify to the true extent of everything because I honestly didn't know it all, and I couldn't leave the courtroom to get any of you –"

"You could have sent a Patronus!"

"No, I couldn't! The trial was scheduled as a private hearing – no communication in or out of the courtroom after it's been called to order. If I had arrived only a minute later, I would have been barred entry!"

"Private?" Hermione repeated, shaking her head angrily. "Private hearings are illegal!"

"_Now_ they are! Because _I_ pushed for them to be banned! But under Scrimgeour and Thicknesse, they were par for the course. I wasn't officially Minister yet, and I could not move to repeal any of their legislation at the time." Kingsley scowled and shook his head. "Anyway, the majority of the councilmembers present believed my testimony and what Harry had been quoted as saying in the _Prophet_, so I managed to convince them to take Azkaban off the table. The council felt it could not allow the use of the Killing Curse to go entirely unpunished, especially since there was not firsthand corroboration from Dumbledore available at the time. They pushed for a ten-year sentence, but I fought until they agreed to the absolute minimum of six years in solitude. Due to the law, lack of corroboration, and the timing of the incident -"

"_Six_ years?" Hermione pinched her eyes into a glare. "You only released him days ago. It's been more than six and a half!"

"I know," he sighed, hanging his head. "Their sentence was six years from whenever he regained consciousness. They didn't consider it adequate punishment if he was unaware of it occurring."

"You know that he woke up near Christmas Eve. It's February."

"That's my fault, but I thought it was worth it." Seeing the dark expression appear on her face, the Minister quickly explained. "Solitude meant he was not allowed _any_ contact with the outside world. Any violations meant an increase in his sentence. I felt he needed to know something when he woke, so I broke the order and cost him a further month. I sent a few cards, which cost him the extra weeks. I just wanted him to know that he wasn't forgotten, but if you think I acted in error, I apologize."

Hermione wanted to protest, but could produce no sensible argument. Frustrated, she wiped at her tears and whispered, "No, I… I can't blame you for that."

"Thank you," he replied, relieved.

A hard edge returned to her expression. "But you should have argued for medical care. He more than deserved that much humanity."

Kingsley looked to her in confusion and shook his head. "I was told he had received everything possible. The Malfoys had treated him while he was in their possession, and time was the only thing that could improve –"

"No!" Hermione shrieked, slamming her hand down on the table. "Narcissa kept him alive long enough to stop the bleeding, but he still needed to be treated with antivenin! He was paralyzed and in excruciating pain for years – _years_, Kingsley! If anyone had fucking bothered to fucking check with St. Mungo's, they would have been able to treat him. What _you_ allowed to happen to him was _beyond_ cruel and unusual! He couldn't walk; he couldn't talk; he couldn't do anything but lie there and suffer!"

"But there _was_ testimony from St. Mungo's," he argued. "The Healer who was in charge of his case assured us that everything that could be done, had been done. He said the coma and paralysis might continue for some time, but that Severus wouldn't feel anything. I swear, Hermione, if I had known –"

"Was it Healer Forthwright?"

"No, that doesn't sound –"

"_He's_ the expert in snake wounds – especially Nagini's. _He_ was the one who should have done the examination, and he told me that it never occurred! He'd never seen Severus until _I_ took him into hospital _yesterday_!"

"No, no… it was, ugh, Jones? No. Or… or Jensen, maybe? Or Jen – Jennings! Jennings, I believe was the name."

"Jennig?" Minerva asked; her face having paled considerably. "Landers Jennig?"

"Could be, yes. That does sound right."

The elder witch grimaced and closed her eyes as she explained. "Darletta Jennig, his daughter, was a third year in Hufflepuff that year. The poor girl… she was brutally attacked, tortured by Amycus Carrow and a few, still unnamed, older students for having been overheard criticizing Hogwarts and… and Severus as Headmaster. They left her in the corridor for God only knows how long before Pomona found her, and I sent her home as soon as possible. She never returned to us after the War ended."

"Oh, god." Hermione covered her mouth and turned away as a brief feeling of nausea swept over her.

"And he blamed Severus," Kingsley murmured in realization. He wiped his face and shook his head. "I'm sorry. If I had known… about any of it… Merlin, I'm so sorry."

"But you didn't bother to double check afterward, did you?" Hermione hissed over her shoulder. "Or tell anyone else who would have bothered."

He winced and then took in a deep breath. "Due to the privacy clause of the hearing, I could not reveal anything that occurred in the room, including the identity of the defendant, until after the sentence had been concluded. It _isn't_ that I didn't want to tell anyone; I couldn't! Hermione, I only found out about your son's paternity a few years ago, and I racked my brain trying to think of a way to tell you. I thought, perhaps, if you were a member of my staff, you could inadvertently come across a restricted file."

"_That's_ why you kept offering me the secretarial position?"

"It was the only way I could think of." He shrugged.

"You could have told me there was another reason for your offer," she countered. "Even if you couldn't disclose the reason. Maybe then I wouldn't have found the suggestion to be so insulting."

"I should have, and I apologize for not doing so. Though, I admit I…" Kingsley trailed off and shook his head. "No, never mind."

"Never mind _what_?" the woman questioned. "You admit what?"

Uncomfortable, he averted his eyes to the ceiling. "I admit that I did not press as hard as I could because I was not certain as to how much regard you held for one another."

"Shite," Harry gasped, darting around McGonagall in order to grab Hermione's wand arm before she could do something regrettable.

"You weren't CERTAIN of MY REGARD for him?" Hermione screeched, seemingly oblivious to anything beyond the tall, dark-skinned man in front of her. "I gave birth to his son, for fuck's sake!"

Kingsley pinched his lips into a thin line before whispering, "Yes, well, it doesn't exactly require love to make a child."

"WHAT?!"

Harry put his arm around her chest to keep her from launching forward, and then cast a warning glare at the Minister.

"I'm sorry," Kinglsey murmured.

The witch's expression was almost murderous as she attempted to shake off Harry's interference. "You thought he took advantage of me? Or did you just think I slept around? Is that it? Either he's a predator, or I'm a slag?"

"No! Of course not!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands in defense. "I just thought, perhaps, that… well… we were at war, and it was an incredibly stressful time, and sometimes we do things we wouldn't normally do."

"I loved him, and thought I was going to die – so yes, I pressured him to take things further than he would have under normal circumstances," Hermione snapped, "but that doesn't give _you_ the right to judge our regard for one another!"

"I'm sorry! I just… just… he never asked about you, and you… I could see you regretted his death, but –"

"I didn't _mourn_ visibly enough for you?" she shouted. "I didn't fall to pieces in public, sobbing uncontrollably, so you didn't think I cared? I cared! I – you know what? No. I don't have to explain myself to you. Fuck you."

With that, Hermione violently tore out of Harry's grasp, ran past Minerva and the handful of shocked Weasleys whose curiosities had caused them to accumulate in the kitchen, and raced up the stairs. Upon bursting into the library, she found her family absent. "Wh-where's Severus?"

"Upstairs." Andromeda took a step away from Bill and Fleur. "Brendan wanted him to meet Teddy, and he was more than ready to escape the lot of us, so they should be in the playroom."

"Oh, okay."

The woman tilted her head and eyed her with concern. "Hermione, are you alright?"

"F-fine, thanks." The young witch immediately made for the staircase and attempted to keep herself calm as she walked down the hallway to the study, which she had helped Harry and Ginny convert into a playroom. She paused in the doorway, not quite wanting to disturb the scene before her. Brendan was sitting on the floor with Teddy, while Severus sat in a chair with his back to her, watching and listening as the boys explained their favorite games.

"Mum!"

As their son waved, Severus looked up and turned in the chair. His smile faded, and he stood up as quickly as was possible. "Hermione?"

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but knew she had failed miserably upon seeing the look of alarm on his face. Stepping back in the hall, she waited until he had closed the door before throwing herself at him. His arms came around her frame as her hands clutched desperately at his robes.

"Hermione," he murmured. "You're shaking. What happened?"

"I just… I want to go home, Severus."

"You spoke to Kingsley?" he pressed.

"Y-yes. I yelled at him, screamed at him, but I p-promise I didn't do anything else. Or maybe I poked him a few times, but nothing else. I'll f-forgive him if you want me to, but not right now. I have to go home. I just want you and Brendan. I w-want to go home, and have you hold me, and not have to deal with anyone else. M-Minerva can fill anyone in who didn't hear me shouting. Please."

Severus squeezed her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "You'll have no argument from me, madam."

After a moment, they parted, and Severus moved back to open the door. "Brendan, your mother would like to go home. Get your things together."

"Please," Hermione whispered.

"Please," Severus repeated, casting a sheepish glance back at her.

Brendan frowned and gave a deep sigh. "Can Teddy come? We just started playing."

Seeing the witch give a subtle nod, his father cleared his throat. "If Mrs. Tonks gives him permission to do so, he may."

Giving matching exclamations of joy, the two boys hurriedly repacked their toys and then raced down the hallway to the stairs.

"Walk!" Snape chastised, before adding, "Please."

"Okay!" Brendan replied as he and Teddy slowed to what could, at best, be considered a speed-walk. His parents followed, holding hands, at a far slower pace.

Hermione stopped and pulled on his hand. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Kingsley said… he said he didn't think I grieved like I had lost the man I loved, and I… I just want you to know that I did. It's just… I thought… I made myself hold everything together because, well, I was pregnant and –"

"Hermione, you don't need to explain anything." He cupped her cheek with his free hand and stared down at her. "I know you love me, and it pains me to know that you had to grieve at all. I only ever want you to be happy."

"I still… I cried every night, for a year, at least. It was as though… if I broke down in private, it was better… because then no one knew, and I wouldn't have to share my memory of you with anyone. I just –"

"Shhh," Severus cooed, pulling her into his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and then drew back slightly to kiss her forehead, tear-stained cheeks, and ultimately her lips. Hermione sighed softly and sank into him as their kiss deepened. She let go of his hand in order to wrap both arms about his neck, and he in turn placed one arm about her waist and slipped his other hand into her soft curls.

"MUM! DAD!"

The pair separated upon hearing their son bellowing up the staircase.

"SHE SAYS TEDDY CAN COME OVER!"

Hermione giggled breathlessly and leaned into him again. "I love you."

"And I, you," Snape replied, kissing her quickly before they began making their way down the stairs. Dipping his head close to her ear, he murmured, "You know, I shall not give much protest if you do refuse to share me with anyone."

She laughed and rested her head against his shoulder. "Except Brendan."

"Except Brendan," he agreed.

"And sometimes Teddy."

He smirked in amusement. "And sometimes Teddy."

"And maybe Minerva if she doesn't wind up in Azkaban for disemboweling the Minister for Magic."

Severus snorted loudly as they reached the front entry where the boys were saying goodbye to Andromeda.

A moment later, Brendan looked up at them. "Mum?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What's 'dissinbowel' mean?"

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione mumbled, flushing red under Andromeda's questioning gaze.

With a smirk, Snape squeezed her arm. "It's something very bad. Anything more than that, you'll have to wait until you're much older to know."

"How much older?"

His father sighed and shrugged. "Double your age and then add five."

Furrowing his brow, Brendan immediately set to counting his fingers.

Giving a quiet laugh, Hermione moved to hug Andromeda, who assured them they would be missed, before returning to face her small collection of wizards. "Alright, men – let's go home, shall we?"


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and left a review! Some still want to string Kingsley up by his short and curlies, but it seems most have begrudgingly come to a grumbling acceptance that the Minister isn't a complete arsehole. This is good - I didn't envision him as having been intentionally cruel, but as a busy someone who did what they thought was enough, and nothing more.**

**I think just one more chapter, and then I'll leave them be to get on with life.**

* * *

**-13-**

Hermione startled awake at the howl of the wind as it slammed into the side of the cottage. Peeking at the window across from her, she sighed upon seeing little else but the white of a blizzard. Deciding it was the perfect day to stay snuggled in bed, she pulled the blankets higher and reached beside her for Severus. When her hand only met with cool sheets, she frowned and rolled over to find that she was alone in bed.

"Severus?" she whispered, glancing about the room. There was no sign of him. His outer robes had been thrown upon the chair the night before, but they were gone now. Anxiety settled in her stomach as she called out for him once more. When there was no response, she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. Though she threw on her robe, she wasted no time searching for her slippers before stepping out into the quiet hallway.

Knocking on the bathroom door yielded no reply, and upon opening it, she found the room to be empty.

The witch wrapped her arms about her waist as she moved onto Brendan's room, where the door stood ajar. Pushing it open a bit further, she peeked into the room to see her son fast asleep. Spotting one of his blankets on the floor, she picked it up and tucked it in around him. The boy hardly stirred as she fixed a few strands of his hair that were wildly out of place.

As the window rattled with the storm, Hermione looked up to watch the snow streak past the glass. The Muggle meteorologist had forecast a blizzard for the day after Brendan's birthday, but that day as well as the next had been relatively clear. Clear enough to allow for flying, even.

A horrible thought entered her head, spurring the witch to glance quickly about the floor. Her son's room was always in a bit of chaotic state, but she attempted to compare the current mess to what it had been on his birthday. If it were different, it meant that she had not imagined the past two days. Severus coming back from the dead was incredibly fantastic, and she was beginning to fear that it had all been an elaborate dream.

Unable to recall where any of his toys had been, the woman blinked away the stinging of her eyes and left the room. Her eyes swept over the living room as she descended the stairs, but found no telling evidence of her returned love. Her ears could discern nothing beyond the roar of the wind, the ticking of the clock beside her, and the rapid beating of her heart.

The kitchen revealed no further clues as to his whereabouts, nor did the powder room beneath the stairs, nor did the tiny bedroom at the back of the house that served as her office. Realizing that she and Brendan were alone in the house, Hermione slowly sank into the loveseat in her office and stared blankly at the over-stuffed bookshelf across from her.

Had he left? Or had she just dreamt it all? Was it even possible to dream all of that? She had many times had extremely detailed nightmares, especially in the year after the War, but this was different. This had felt so real with sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, emotions… how could she have imagined all of those? And if she had not imagined it, where had he gone? He promised not to leave her, not to leave them.

Tears welled up in her eyes as Hermione leaned forward and held her face in her hands. She had felt so happy, so complete, and she did not wish to let go of that feeling. She wanted Brendan to have his father; she wanted to fall asleep every night and wake up every morning with Severus beside her; she wanted her little family to be whole.

A swishing noise caused her head to snap up, and she looked to the door as she considered whether or not it had been the Floo activating. When no one called out and there were no sounds of footsteps, she realized that it had only been the wind. With a sad sigh, she stood up and moved to the window. For several minutes, she stared out at the storm and wondered how long it would take to relieve the terrible ache in her chest.

Hearing a cupboard door close, the witch took in a deep breath and made her way toward the kitchen to make sure Brendan was standing on a chair and not the counter top. Upon crossing the threshold of the kitchen, however, her breath caught in her throat and her heart began pounding rapidly.

It was not her son who had been fetching a cup from the cupboard, but his father.

"Severus?" she gasped.

Teacup in hand, the wizard turned around and lifted an eyebrow at her tone. "Yes?"

Her lips trembled as she failed to find words, and her feet kicked in instead. Before she realized she was even moving, Hermione had thrown herself into his chest.

Snape grunted in surprise at the impact that knocked the cup out of his hand. As it smashed into a dozen and a half pieces on the floor, his boot slid on a puddle of melted snow. Grabbing onto the counter with one hand, he wrapped his other arm tightly around her waist and slowed their descent to the linoleum as much as possible. When they were safely on the floor, he let go of the counter and focused fully on the sobbing witch in his arms.

"Hermione? Whatever is the matter?"

It took several long seconds for her to hiccup out an intelligible response. "You were… I woke up… and… you weren't… there."

The wizard grimaced and pressed his nose into her wild hair. "I'm sorry."

"You weren't anywhere! I looked… everywhere… and you… were g-gone."

"I am sorry," he repeated. "You were sleeping so soundly, and I thought I would be back before you woke."

"I thought…" Hermione shook her head sadly. "I thought maybe I had dreamt it all… and that… that you weren't real."

"It isn't a dream, I promise," Severus replied, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "I did not mean to upset you at all. I should have waited to go. I wasn't thinking."

She took in a deep breath to calm herself and looked up at him. "Where did you go?"

He gestured at a bag that had been placed on one of the dining chairs. "The Leaky Cauldron, to collect my things and settle my tab. I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought it would be easier to navigate through Diagon Alley before the _Prophet_ heralded my return. I didn't think I would be gone more than an hour, but I wasn't expecting the storm. I don't know this area very well yet, so I didn't want to risk apparating in the middle of a blizzard. I Flooed in from Grimmauld Place."

"Oh," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for panicking."

The man chuckled softly. "There is no need for you to apologize. I should have thought enough to leave a note at least."

"That would have been better," Hermione agreed. "Did you get everything you needed?"

He nodded. "For now, at least. Eventually, I'd like to determine the state of my house, but that can wait."

"Oh, I didn't even think about –"

"It's alright." Snape shifted slightly to allow his leg to straighten. "If it hasn't collapsed in on itself in the past seven years, it isn't likely to do so in the next week or so. And if it has… good riddance."

"I never bothered to check on it," she whispered glumly.

With a shake of his head, he squeezed her arm. "I never bothered to tell you its location."

"True," Hermione smirked, running her hand over his traveling cloak. "Severus, if you would rather live there—"

"Absolutely not. That building is not suitable for raising a family. It wasn't even when I was a child. I would not wish to expose either you or Brendan to it." He glanced about the kitchen. "This is where I would rather be."

Grinning, the witch closed her eyes and slipped her arms around his neck. "Well, _this_ is where I would rather be."

Severus snorted softly and held her in silence for several minutes. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "There was another reason I went to London."

"I suppose you need clothes?"

He shook his head. "I purchased enough of those a few days ago while I was meandering about Diagon Alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of you."

"Oh," the witch mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"Sorry." When he sighed at her reply, she giggled and adjusted herself against him. "Anyway, what was your other reason?"

The wizard removed one arm from her person and reached into one of his pockets. "I wanted to access my vault because there was something there I want you to have."

Hermione sat up straight, looking first to him and then to the small drawstring bag in his hand. His fingers deftly undid the knot in the string, and he then poured out its contents into the palm of his hand.

"I realize that sitting on the kitchen floor in a puddle of snow water is not the ideal setting for this, but I am hoping that the 'coming back from the dead' bit might earn me a bit of redemption." He took in a deep breath and then held the ring between them. "For the past seven years – well, eight years in all honesty – I have spent every day wishing that I could be with you. In all of that time, I thought it could only ever be a fantasy. I didn't expect to live; I didn't expect to be loved; I didn't expect to be a father; and I didn't expect to be a husband. Because of you, I've been able to accomplish the first three, and I would greatly appreciate it, Hermione, if you would allow me to accomplish the last."

"Are you…" Her teary eyes locked onto his. "You're asking me to marry you?"

A nervous smile settled onto his face as Severus nodded. "Would you… be willing… t-to be my wife?"

As he stumbled over the question, Hermione giggled quietly and wiped at her eyes. Without hesitating, she pushed forward and pressed her lips against his. "Yes… dear god, yes… I would marry you… right now… if I could!"

When she finally stopped kissing him between speaking, the man slipped the ring onto her finger. As it magically readjusted to fit her, he cleared his throat. "If you would prefer, I can look for something better."

The woman gazed down at the cluster of pearls shaped like a flower and flanked by a trio of tiny emeralds on either side. With a bright smile, she shook her head. "It's perfect."

"My mother received it on her seventeenth birthday," he explained. "It was passed down by her mother's line. If I recall, it belonged first to my four-times great grandmother."

"I love it." Looking away from the ring, Hermione lifted her hand to his jaw and leaned in to kiss him once more. "And I love you."

"And I, you," Severus murmured against her lips before deepening the kiss. As she sank against him, his hand slipped inside her satin robe and moved down her back to cup her arse. She moaned in response and pressed herself even closer to his chest.

"Mum? Dad?"

"Mmmshit," the witch whispered as she immediately detached from his mouth. As his hand retreated from her bottom, she spun in her seat to look to the doorway where Brendan stood, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

While her fiancé leaned back against the cupboard, Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, baby?"

"What're you doing?"

"I, erm… we were, erm…" She glanced helplessly at Severus, who merely shrugged, and then back at her son. "Erm, your father asked me to marry him."

The boy's eyes widened as he jumped toward the table. "You're getting married?!"

Hermione smiled and nodded her head. "Yes, we –"

"Stop!"

Brendan froze mid-step as both he and his mother startled.

"There's broken glass on the floor," Snape explained when they both looked to him in surprise. "You could cut your feet."

"Oh!" His son quickly checked the bottom of both bare feet and then tiptoed to the nearest chair.

"Glass?" Hermione questioned, glancing down at the floor and noticing the broken teacup for the first time.

"I was just about to make tea when you… ambushed me."

Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment, and she opened her mouth to apologize only to have him press his finger to her lips.

"I meant it, you know. I don't want any more apologies."

She giggled nervously and then made a motion to stand. "I suppose I should clean that up since I broke it. It looks too broken to fix."

"No." Severus grabbed her about the waist and slipped his other arm beneath her knees. Groaning, he slowly maneuvered to his feet and turned to set her bottom on the countertop. "Since I am the only one with shoes on at the moment, I will clean it up. Where do you keep your broom?"

"In that closet over there, Daddy!" Brendan cried cheerfully as he all but climbed on the table to point out the closet door. After his father thanked him and had started sweeping up the debris, the boy sank back onto the chair and looked to his mother. "You and Daddy are really getting married?"

Hermione laughed as she pulled her eyes away from her fiancé. "Yes, we really are."

"But when?"

"Well, I don't yet –"

"Soon," Snape replied, looking up from the dustpan.

"How soon?"

"As soon as we can schedule it with the Ministry," she answered.

"Oh." The boy paused for a moment of contemplation. "Can I come?"

His mother smiled at him. "Of course you can! We wouldn't think of doing it without you."

"Can Teddy come?"

"Sure."

"And Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny?"

"Yes, I –"

"And Granma Molly and Grandpa Thur?"

"Yes."

"And James? And Tori? And Domni?"

"Let's just say that anyone who wants to be there can be there," Hermione stated quickly, holding up a hand to stave off the next volley of questions.

Severus snorted as he dumped the broken glass in the rubbish bin. "Within reason."

"Within reason," she agreed. "May I get down now?"

The wizard made a show of scanning the floor for any stray shards before coming to stand in front of her. Setting the broom aside, he placed one hand on either side of her and cocked his head. "What incentive do I have to let you down?"

Arching one eyebrow, she folded her arms to her chest. "Well, I don't think I can file all the necessary forms for the Ministry from here, so you can't marry me until you do."

"Long term, I agree this is not a viable option," he murmured, "but you have yet to convince me regarding the short term."

"Is that so?" the witch retorted. After a moment's reflection, she slipped her arms about his neck and leaned toward his ear to whisper, "It would be nigh impossible for me to accomplish certain things up here, so if I suddenly get the urge to, for instance, put my mouth on that magnificent cock of yours, whatever will I do?"

Severus swallowed slowly as her hot breath tickled his ear. As soon as she finished whispering, he scooped her up from the counter and smoothly deposited her back on her feet. "I would not wish to suspend any pleasure of yours, Madam."

"I thought not," Hermione smirked. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss.

"Are you guys gonna make another baby?"

An unattractive noise of surprise escaped both of his parents as they broke apart and gaped at him.

"What?" his mother gasped. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno," Brendan shrugged. "Tori just said that when people get married, they kiss lots, and then make a baby."

Snape let out a deep breath and rubbed his face, while Hermione turned toward him to mutter, "I swear I'm going to kill Bill."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he sneered, pulling out a chair from the table.

Rolling her eyes, the witch crouched down beside the chair and smoothed her hand over her child's hair. "Perhaps someday we will. If we do, it doesn't mean we will love you any less. It just means we would love you both with all of our hearts, okay?"

"Okay," Brendan nodded before donning a serious expression. "But I hope you do, Mum."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. I'm _older_ than Tori, and _she_ already has a sister _and_ a brother!"

His mother fought to contain her laughter. "Alright, then. For now, though… we're more than happy to spend our time… tickling you!"

"Ahhh! Mu-u-u-u-um! N-n-not fair!"

"Life isn't fair!" she declared, continuing to run her fingers over his sides. After a moment, she stopped and wrapped her arms around him. "Did you see outside?"

"It's all snowy!"

"It is, indeed," Hermione agreed. "It's too stormy to play outside, though. You'll have to play inside today."

Brendan gave a small nod as he pulled away from her. "Can we play a game?"

"It's time for breakfast."

"But _after_ breakfast?"

The witch sighed as she stood. "What game did you have in mind?"

"Oh! The one Uncle Ron gave me for Christmas? _Please_!"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Severus looking rather apprehensive. Smirking, she turned back to her son. "If you ask nicely, perhaps your father would show you how to play."

The boy excitedly slipped off of his chair and ducked around the end of the table to stand beside the tall wizard's chair. "Daddy? Do you know how to play Wizard Chest?"

Snape frowned slightly before opening his mouth to reply negatively.

His fiancée quickly cleared her throat. "He means Wizard's Chess."

"Yeah!" the boy nodded, leaning his elbow against the man's leg.

"Ah," his father grunted. "In that case, yes. I do know how to play chess."

"Can you play better than Uncle Ron?"

Severus snorted. "I should hope so."

"Really?!" his son exclaimed. "Can you show me? Mum says she isn't any good at it."

"I find that rather surprising," the man murmured, glancing at her curiously. "But I am willing to teach you how to play if you wish to learn."

"Yes!" Brendan spun quickly on his heel. "I'm gonna go find it, Mum."

As their child happily dashed out of the room, Snape crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that the Brightest Witch of the Age cannot play chess?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It isn't that I can't play chess. I know _how_ to. I just… I don't like Wizard's Chess. I still have nightmares about being trapped on a giant chess board, having to carefully plan my steps just to get to the loo without having my head lobbed off."

Wincing, he pushed out of his chair. "Minerva's enchantment for the Philosopher's Stone."

"Right in one," she sighed, moving over to the counter to pull a loaf of bread out from the breadbox.

The wizard moved to stand behind her and rubbed his hands along her arms. "I apologize for teasing you. It is entirely understandable that you would dislike the game."

Nodding, she placed bread in the toaster before turning to rest her head against his chest. "We got into so much trouble at Hogwarts."

"Now, _there's_ an understatement," he snorted.

"We could have died so many times," the witch continued. "I just can't… I worry….I mean, there's still five and a half years until he goes, but…"

"I know," Severus whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "I would take comfort, though, in the fact that Minerva is in charge instead of Albus. She has always been much more safety conscious in her approaches, and now no one will override her concerns. That being said, you can be certain that I will be having a tête-à-tête with the Headmistress regarding student security before I allow my children to attend."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured. A moment later, she looked up at him. "Children? So you would like to have more?"

"I believe I would, yes," he replied with a small smile. "Besides, even if I felt otherwise, it may already prove to be a moot point."

"What do you mean?"

"Unless you're on a potion, we didn't utilize any contraceptive measures."

"Well, someone seems a bit confident in their ability to sprog me up in one go," she teased.

"I managed it once already, haven't I?"

"Oh, stuff it!" she snorted, smacking his arm. "I shouldn't actually be ovulating right now, so the likelihood isn't as high as you seem to think it."

Snape shrugged and pressed his lips to the side of her head. "Nevertheless, I wouldn't mind."

Blinking quickly, she turned in his arms. "You really wouldn't?"

"No," he murmured. "Unless you would?"

"No." Hermione shook her head, ignoring the toast. Slipping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. "We could just, erm, continue to take our chances."

"We could," he agreed, smirking.

Happy tears formed in her eyes as she pulled his head down for a kiss.

"Found it!" Brendan called.

With a small sigh, the woman pulled back and turned to peer around her fiancé. "Not in here, please. Set it up in the sitting room, if you will."

Emitting a dramatic puff of air, their son turned around and carried the box back through the doorway.

Shaking her head briefly, Hermione returned her eyes to the tall wizard in front of her. "We could also wait if you'd rather more time to settle in before we… further rock the cradle, so to speak. I'm only twenty-five. Molly informs me I have at least that many more years of fertility."

The wizard snorted. "That may be, but as our son so helpfully pointed out yesterday, _I_ am already forty-five. Forgive me, but I have no wish to be traipsing about Diagon Alley for school supplies when I'm seventy."

"Fair enough." Grinning, the witch spun back to continue making breakfast. Pausing in the midst of buttering a piece of toast, she glanced back at him. "That being said, I expect that we will make our vows before I go into labor this time. One child out of wedlock is my limit."

Severus sighed before kissing her neck. "Agreed."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: And here it is - finally, the final chapter! I had hoped to have this up for Valentine's Day, but hey... close enough. Thank you all for following this little story, and hopefully this makes things a little better for you, knowing that somewhere in some universe, Severus Snape got his happy ending. I love you all and always enjoy reading your comments. Also, I did set up a Twitter due to a number of requests from readers, so if you would like to follow me (georgesgurl117) for more up-to-date information on things or to tweet me questions, please do so! **

* * *

**_Hope Reawakened_**

**-14-**

Though the flashes of color and muffled pops of the Muggle fireworks ushering in the New Year had died away long ago, Severus remained standing near the window, watching silently as the moonlit snow fell from the sky. A rustling noise drew his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that Hermione had turned over in bed. He eyed her in concern for a moment until it was apparent that she was still asleep.

Relieved that she had not woken, he rubbed his face with his left hand. A smile crept outwards upon his noticing the silver band on his fourth finger gleaming in the pale light. It was not exactly a new adornment given the fact they had been wed since the previous Spring Equinox – a date which Hermione had thought terribly apropos due to its association with rebirth and regeneration – but it still managed to bring a flutter to his chest to know he could call her his wife.

The wedding ceremony itself, which had taken place in one of the Ministry's halls, had been as low-key as Molly Weasley had begrudgingly allowed it to be, even though it had been attended by nearly every ginger in Wizarding Britain. Closing his eyes, Severus could easily picture Hermione standing before him in a simple, ivory gown with her hair draped over one shoulder in a loose braid, and her eyes sparkling with tears as she made her marriage vows. Brendan had also stood with them throughout the brief service, fidgeting in his first set of dress robes, before eagerly scrambling up on the table to watch his father sign the parchment making his paternal claim official.

The reception that had followed, however, had been as raucous as one could expect a Weasley production to be. Food, drinks, laughter, dancing, and the unavoidable squabbling had carried on until darkness fell. The night had culminated in an admittedly impressive display of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, including 'Sniping Snapping Snapers', the newest addition to their product line. Severus had had half a mind to lop off the obnoxious wizard's other ear, until he noticed how excited Brendan was to have his new surname on a series of Whiz-bangs. Though he did cast a chilling glare in George Weasley's direction, he had remained jovial until the end of the show, at which point he had carried a deeply-slumbering Brendan up to bed before he and Hermione could escape the horde of suggestive looks to enjoy what could finally be considered _marital_ relations.

As the wind suddenly picked up, slapping snow against the frosty glass, Snape turned away from the window and crept down the hallway. Easing open the door so as not to let it creak, he entered Brendan's bedroom and snorted softly at seeing Teddy Lupin's blue hair practically glowing in the moonlight as he slept on the spare mattress.

Brendan was fast asleep in his own bed, wrapped tightly in his sheets as his warmer covers had started sliding off of the bed. Taking great care as to not spring the elaborate death-trap of toys the two boys had managed to produce, Severus moved over to the side of his bed and, keeping his arm-sling steady, bent down to drape the blankets back over the boy's shoulder. After pausing a while to watch his steady breathing, he gently touched his son's head before picking his way back out to the safety of the hallway.

Upon reaching the staircase, the wizard peered over the railing and sighed deeply upon seeing the blonde head above the back of the sofa. With one last glance in the direction of his sleeping wife, he gradually descended to the main floor, making sure not to jostle his arm. Approaching the couch, he silently took a seat near his ruminating houseguest.

A full minute nearly passed before Draco pulled his gaze away from the fire burning merrily in the grate. "Sir."

"I'd hoped you would be able to sleep."

The younger man exhaled slowly and shook his head. "No, and I don't… I … no."

"And you don't want to, is what you were going to say, yes?" Severus stated, tipping his head. "You're afraid you might not wake up from the nightmare… that you'll discover this reality was, in fact, the dream."

Grey eyes locked onto his.

"You thought I wouldn't understand?" The man raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the clock. "It's nearly three in the morning. Do I appear to be sleeping to you?"

A sad smirk appeared on Draco's face as he ducked his head. "So it doesn't go away, then."

"It may… eventually," Snape murmured. "I would like to be able to tell you that it does completely, that the fear passes… but I long ago promised never to lie to you. Frankly, the more joy I find in life, the more afraid I am to wake and find it gone. But to give up, to let that fear dictate your actions, would be the most asinine decision you could make. Despite what certain people may have claimed in the past, you are not a sniveling coward."

The blonde snorted and leaned his head back on the couch. "So you _are_ the Professor Snape I remember."

Severus quirked a small smile. "When you start to find your courage, you'll find the insomnia eases. A few sleepless nights are far better than all of them. Until then, well… you can assist me in brewing some Dreamless Sleep tomorrow evening."

Draco gave a single nod before casting an uncertain glance behind him.

"If you'd prefer to sleep out here for the time being, you are more than welcome to do so."

"But… you…"

"What?" Snape sneered. "You think I duped the Weasleys into building an addition solely so you and your mother would have more than a cramped office to share? Leave the egocentricity to Potter, would you? This house was in sore need of increased square footage."

The pureblood shook his head good-naturedly before returning his eyes to the fireplace. "Just for the books alone."

"Indeed." He breathed deeply as he studied his former pupil.

As a boy, Draco had often demonstrated the typical Malfoy bluster and arrogance, but that had long ago been stripped away. Instead, the War and subsequent years of imprisonment in Azkaban had hollowed him into a ghost of his former self. While he had always been slender and fair-skinned, he was now gaunt with dark circles beneath his eyes and a pallor that rivaled the dead. He was also several inches taller than Severus remembered, though that should not have been terribly surprising considering how young the boy had been when last they had been together. That fact had hit him with full force during the first parole hearing when he realized the child whom he had supervised for so many years had celebrated his eighteenth birthday cowering in the corner of a dank, frigid cell with no one but dementors to offer their well-wishes.

While Kingsley Shacklebolt undoubtedly patted himself on the back for having rid Azkaban of the dementors during his first official year as Minister, it had still taken more than six months of the Malfoys' sentences to accomplish the feat. Having himself spent six _weeks_ in Azkaban after the first fall of Voldemort, Severus could very well imagine the emotional and psychological damage one could accrue in half a year. Additionally, he knew that the Wizarding prison did not truly require its traditional dark guards to break a man. The conditions and the building could suck out a soul and extinguish a life all on their own.

With a pained sigh, Snape closed his eyes. He remembered the seemingly endless days of darkness where one could scarcely tell the difference between night and day except for the slight difference in temperature. There were no books to read – no light to read them in, besides – and no house-elves to pop in with fresh linens or cleaning charms. The only options for activity in Azkaban were contemplation and sleep, but even that frequently proved difficult as it was often interrupted by one's own shivering. He had never been so grateful for a fireplace as he had in the months following his release from Azkaban. Warming charms had helped, of course, but there was something about being able to visualize the bright source of heat that better fought the chronic chill that resided in one's bones.

It did not surprise him in the least that Draco had either remained in or snuck back into the sitting room every night since his release eleven days prior. Narcissa had done similarly during her first few weeks of freedom, even though the weather had been undeniably warmer in the spring. Since she had never taken the Mark and had, in essence, saved both The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again and The-Bravest-Man, the witch had been granted parole at her first hearing in March. The Ministry, however, had refused to release any of the Malfoy assets, and, having nowhere else to go, the witch had graciously accepted Hermione's offer for housing.

Despite their efforts and testimony, the Wizengamot had rejected Draco's first application for parole in May and scheduled a secondary hearing seven months later. While her son had not seemed shocked to be sent back to prison, Narcissa had been inconsolable for days, refusing to eat until Hermione managed to goad Andromeda into visiting her younger sister. Following several months of media campaigns organized by members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Wizengamot had finally approved of the young Malfoy's release shortly before Christmas.

"You know, it's still bloody weird to see you…like that," Draco mumbled.

Severus raised an eyebrow as he followed the vague gesture to the sling he wore. Forgetting his earlier melancholy, he could not help but smile as he watched his newborn daughter sleep. Born the second week of December, Amara Nadine Snape had been named also as a result of her mother's predilection for apt meanings and definitions. Though he had teased Hermione for her need to research absolutely everything, he could not argue with the message of _'unfading hope'. _

"I never imagined I would see you holding a baby."

With a smirk, the former spy glanced up again. "I'll have you know, Mr. Malfoy, that _you_ were the first baby I held. The only one I held, actually, until Amara."

"You're joking!" Draco exclaimed, shaking his head. "I don't remember that."

"Of course not," he scoffed. "You were a bloody infant at the time."

"Yes, I suppose. I just meant that I've never seen any pictures, I guess."

"I'm sure there were one or two. Your mother was certifiably insane with the need to document your drooling on everyone and everything."

A brief smile touched on the pureblood's face before he shook his head. "I don't think I've seen more than a few."

Snape let out a deep sigh and rubbed his face. "After the Dark – After _Voldemort_ fell the first time, someone implicated your father as a follower. The Aurors raided the Manor… made a mess of everything, and took any documents or photos they could get their hands on. Much of it, I believe, was never returned. Your mother was quite upset by it. Understandably so."

"Oh."

Deciding a change of topic was in order, he readjusted his arm. "Would you like to hold her?"

"No."

An odd expression – some mixture of fear, guilt, and longing? – appeared on Draco's face, giving the older man pause. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I wouldn't want to… erm… she seems rather peaceful right now."

Severus pinched his mouth into a thin line as he noticed an unmistakable flash of shame in the grey eyes before they ducked away. Making up his mind, he carefully extracted the sleeping infant from the sling and moved closer to the young man. "Here."

Draco snapped his head back. "Wha – no! Please, sir… I don't want to hurt her."

"I'm sitting right here." He frowned. "What possible harm could you bring her?"

"But… I just… I…"

Seeing that the blonde's gaze flicked to his left arm, Snape exhaled slowly. "Draco, look at me. You aren't going to hurt her; you aren't going to taint her. Do you understand me? It doesn't matter that you took the Mark or were in Azkaban. I did both of those things, didn't I? Furthermore, I killed a man. I helped cause the death of many more – some of them friends. I stood by and watched while children were tortured. I didn't _want_ to do any of those things, but the fact of the matter is I _did_ do them. Between the two of us, you are by far the better person.

"Now, sit up a bit straighter and bend your arm. Make sure to support her head."

Amara woke up shortly after her father transferred her into another pair of arms, but remained quiet. As she looked up at him with her dark eyes, Draco gasped in astonishment. "She's so small."

"I'd say you were about the same size," Severus mused.

"Huh. She's beautiful, sir."

"She is. And you can count yourself lucky; I have yet to allow Potter to hold her."

The pureblood snorted and glanced up at his former Head of House. "Why let me, then?"

"Because I thought she might help you to see that life goes on and circumstances improve."

As the two men huddled together on the sofa, Hermione hesitated halfway down the staircase. Having woken up alone and feeling that another nighttime feeding was imminent, she came in search of her husband and baby. However, she had no wish to interrupt them yet, so she gently sank down onto one of the steps to watch them.

The sound of a small sniffle drew her to look over the railing to see Narcissa leaning against the wall. As if sensing she was being watched, the blonde woman raised her eyes to the staircase. Hermione gave a smile, which they shared for a few moments until she heard Amara beginning to fuss.

"What did I…" Draco murmured in concern.

"No, no!" Hermione exclaimed, revealing her presence as she hastened down the rest of the steps and over to the sofa. "It's not anything you did. She's merely hungry."

"You're certain?"

"Quite." The witch smirked as she leaned down to pick up her child. After Severus helped her steady the squirming newborn in her arms, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Wake me whenever you come to bed. Please."

When he nodded, she turned and made her way back toward the staircase. She shared another brief smile with Narcissa before climbing up to the second floor.

Watching her leave, Draco let out a sigh and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry."

Severus turned his head quickly. "Whatever for?"

"You have a family, and I'm interrupting it."

"No one is complaining."

"Yet," Draco sneered. "I can't believe, though, that Granger is too chuffed to have me in her home, around her children."

Sighing, Snape shook his head. "_Hermione_ is the reason you're here. When the Ministry refused to release any of the Malfoy properties or assets, she jumped in and offered to house your mother. Though she had not discussed it with me prior to suggesting it, I was not – _am_ not - opposed to it. We discussed it thoroughly after getting your mother settled in, and we both were in agreement that the two of you could stay here as long as it took to get your feet underneath you again. As long as you pull your weight around the house and remain civil to Hermione, there won't be any issue."

The younger wizard frowned in contemplation. "I never truly disliked her, you know. I mean, it did piss me off that she always out-performed me –"

"I wouldn't say that at all. You more than held your own."

"Fine, it pissed me off that it always _seemed_ like she was a better student than I was. But beyond that…I just… with everything Father told me, I thought I wasn't supposed to like her." Draco shrugged and glanced toward the stairs. "But she's actually a rather impressive person."

"I realize this, yes," Snape scorned, folding his arms. "That's why I married her."

The blonde snorted in amusement. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Professor. I have no romantic inclinations toward your wife. I suppose I wouldn't mind being friends someday… as long as she doesn't punch me again."

"She'd only do so if you deserve it. And if you do deserve it, you'll have to deal with me before she even has the chance to get within striking distance of you."

"Noted. I'm sure you are still quite scary… even though you've been _domesticated_."

Severus narrowed his eyes into a glare. "I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that having a family to protect has not made me _less_ dangerous to cross."

With a soft chuckle, Draco nodded his head. "I understand that, sir… but I don't understand why you're helping me. Mum released you from the Vow. I saw her do it. You don't owe us anything. _ We_ owe you. _I_ owe you. It's my fault that you had to –"

"No," the ex-spy snapped, holding up a hand. "Nothing that happened was your fault, Draco. You were Marked because of your father's mistakes, and even had I not entered into a Vow with your mother, I still would have been expected to kill Dumbledore. If anything, the Vow improved the Dark Lord's opinion of me and convinced your Aunt Bellatrix to shut her bloody mouth for once. I do not blame you for anything I had to do, or anything that happened to me. Without the Vow, your mother would have had no reason to feel indebted to me, and I very likely would not be alive today. Hermione and Brendan would still be on their own, never knowing that I loved them, and Amara would never exist.

"That is partly the reason why I am helping you. However, there is also a part of me that wants to help you because when I was in similar circumstances – friendless, penniless, hopeless – I would have sold my soul just to have someone provide me assistance." He slid up the sleeve on his left arm far enough to expose the faded, grey Mark. "In fact I did, and it was the greatest mistake of my life. Despite our vastly different backgrounds, I have always felt a kinship of sorts with you, from the very moment I first held you. I swore to myself then that I would look out for you, protect you whenever it was possible. If I can step in now and be the influence that keeps you safe and on a better path through life, then I will have succeeded. It doesn't matter that I am no longer your professor or Head of House, I will always feel responsible for your well-being."

As he explained, the young Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. Failing to hold back his tears, he tipped forward and pressed his head against the man's shoulder.

Shocked by the action, Severus momentarily tensed before wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulders. He felt his own eyes beginning to sting as he rested his cheek against silky, blonde hair and murmured, "You have a second chance, Draco. Don't let it go to waste. Whatever wrongs happened, whether they were done to you or by you, you have to try your damnedest to let them go. You cannot embrace the future unless you first release the past. It's hard and it hurts, believe me, but it's fucking worth it."

"What if I can't?" Draco whispered.

Snape inhaled deeply and tightened his hold. "You can, and you will. The Malfoy reputation and fortune may lie in tatters, but you will _earn_ them back, and they will be worth all the more."

Groaning, the young wizard pulled away, frantically wiping away at his tears in embarrassment. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I don't… I don't even have… I never graduated. I didn't finish seventh year – half of my courses were a joke anyway – and I know McGonagall negated my last semester of sixth year after… after what happened. Without those, I'm not eligible to take the NEWTs, and even if I were, I haven't even used a bloody wand in seven and a half years! I'd be lucky to even pass one subject."

Severus leaned forward to touch his shoulder. "We will _deal_ with it. Minerva is still feeling incredibly guilty, so I do not imagine it will take much convincing on my part at all for her to re-instate your sixth year work – no one else managed more than you anyway – and as for your seventh year, _I_ was Headmaster of record, so _I_ will petition those Heads of House to sign off on your completion. With their signatures, I will have Minerva issue you certification from Hogwarts. You'll have to study for the NEWTs, of course, and when you feel you are prepared to take them, I am more than certain that Minister Shacklebolt will ensure you have an appointment to do so.

"Until then… Well, St. Mungo's has asked if I would assist them in establishing an experimental treatment and research department. They've claimed I would have complete control over hiring assistants."

Draco straightened in his seat. "And you would hire me?"

He shrugged, glancing briefly at the stairs before dropping his voice. "In the fifteen years I taught potions, I do not believe I encountered a student as adept at it as you. However, should that _ever_ be repeated, I will make life so miserable for you that you will long for the days of Azkaban."

"Ha! You're afraid Granger'll kick you out of her bed if she finds out she wasn't your best student."

"Laugh now, Mr. Malfoy, because I guarantee you will not be should she ever learn of that fact." Smirking, the man stood from the sofa. "In the afternoon, Potter and I are taking the boys flying. If you think you can manage not to hex The Boy Wonder – and I do understand it can be a struggle – you would be welcome to join us. Should you be interested, we can head out early, and you can spend some time getting to know your cousin's son _before_ his idiot godfather arrives."

With another smile, Draco nodded. "I think I'd like to. Thank you, sir."

After wishing him a good night, Snape made his way toward the staircase. He stopped briefly on the first step when Narcissa stepped out from the shadows, squeezing his hand in gratitude before sweeping across the room to sit with her son. Breathing deeply, he continued up the stairs and down the hallway to the bedroom, where Hermione sat up against the pillows, dozing off as Amara nursed.

"Mmph, Sev'rus," she mumbled, opening her eyes at the sound of the door clicking shut.

He gave her a weak smile as he discarded his robe and climbed into bed beside her.

"Hey." The witch glanced up at him in concern. "Are you alright?"

Nodding, Severus slipped an arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. As she turned her head, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and then placed his head on her shoulder.

His wife shifted her hold on the baby so she could touch one hand to his head. "You're worrying me a bit. Could you please say something?"

Giving a loud sigh, the wizard sat up straight and pinched the bridge of his nose. After clearing his throat, he met her questioning gaze. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" she repeated, confused. "For what?"

"For everything," he murmured. "For marrying me, for bearing my children, for your non-stop fussing… for loving me… for being brave enough to kiss me nine years ago… for having the courage or stupidity not to run away when I told you what must be done… but most importantly, for reminding me that life was worth living. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now, but it certainly wouldn't be any place I'd want to be."

"You're welcome," she whispered, staring up at him expectantly. "I can't exactly move that much right now, so would you come close enough that I can ki –"

Severus bent down to seize her lips, swallowing the rest of her request. "I love you."

"And I you," Hermione replied, touching her forehead to his. "I'm glad you were able to talk to Draco."

"As am I." He helped her readjust her position so she could lean against him instead of the headboard.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

Her husband nodded, smiling as he peered over her shoulder to watch their daughter suckling. "He will be, given time. I thought perhaps it would help if I shared with him some of my experience… as well as a bit of the advice Dumbledore gave me."

Hermione glanced up at him. "You've never actually said what he said to you that night at the museum. I thought about asking, but…"

"But you weren't exactly sure you wanted to know," he surmised. When she nodded in reply, he squeezed her hip with his hand. "He told me I had a second chance – one that even he had not anticipated – and that I shouldn't let it slip through my fingers by living in the past. He said it was imperative that I forgive myself – and others, of course – so that I might be fully prepared to enjoy what life has to offer."

"He did?" she gasped. "Hmmm, maybe I'll have to stop being mad at him, then. Maybe."

Severus snorted. "Of course, he did also think it prudent to insinuate that _if_ I did love you, I might consider allowing you to move on with your life instead of holding you to schoolgirl promises made during moments of great peril."

"Oh, that _bastard_!" the witch hissed. "If I _ever_ go back to that place, I swear I am going to give that interfering arsehole a piece of my mind."

Smirking, he kissed her temple and smoothed his thumb along her arm. "If you're not careful, one of those might be her first word."

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione glanced down at their daughter. "And if that were the case, why do I have the feeling you would be immensely proud?"

"Because I would be."

"Prat."

"Mmm… I'm hoping for that one especially."

"You are awful, you know that?"

"I am aware of that, yes." Severus grinned as he tipped her chin up and hovered above her mouth. "And yet, you still chose me. So what, madam, does that say about you?"

"That I'm madly in love with you," Hermione whispered before pressing her lips to his.

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**-The End-**


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